


The Judge and Mrs. Mills

by MaeveClaire1



Category: Judge John Deed
Genre: Addiction, Angst, British, Difficult Decisions, Drama & Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Humor, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-05 17:29:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 39,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17329343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaeveClaire1/pseuds/MaeveClaire1
Summary: Jo and John’s on-again-off-again relationship has tormented them both for years. Their only hope of being together is to learn to trust each other and to find a way to end the pain they cause in each other’s lives. To find redemption, they must both make some difficult choices.





	1. Part One - Chaos - Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This contains explicit (m/f) sex, there is much in-depth and frank discussion about the judge’s addiction and other issues, and there is a minor amount of domestic violence. If any of these topics may upset or offend you, please don’t read it because it was not my intention to do either of those things. There is some humor, so it’s not all dark and angsty.
> 
> These characters are not mine, but belong to GF Newman and the BBC. They are presented only for entertainment purposes.

John Deed woke to her whispering in his ear. He wasn't conscious enough to understand what she was saying, and when he opened his eyes, he was looking straight into her face. It was then that he realized that she had hold of his semi-erect penis and was shaking it.

 

“What _are_ you doing?” he said.

“Hop to it. I don’t have all morning for this.”

"Stop wagging that at me."

 

She looked at him with a smirk on her face, kissed him on the mouth and then kissed her way down the front of him. She took him in her mouth. He moaned and stroked her hair. _That mouth of hers could do things to him that no other woman's mouth could do,_ he thought _._ Sex with her had always been extraordinary. She was like a wild animal and he had the bite marks to prove it. Whatever he wanted in bed, she wanted it more. She was an expert on his body. She knew just where and how to touch him.

 

He gently reached down and rolled her on to her back. He kissed her mouth and then kissed her breasts. As he started to kiss her stomach, she said, "No, we don't have time for that." She rolled him over on his back and climbed on top of him. In a few minutes she was moaning loudly and he was sure everyone in the building could hear her.

 

Afterwards, they lay together in each other's arms. He liked the intimacy almost as much as he liked the act itself. She nibbled on his face and ran her fingers through the hair on his chest. She murmured sweet things in his ear, telling him what a wonderful lover he was and how good he made her feel. She knew exactly what to say to him. He wondered, as he had many times after sex with her, if this was where he really belonged. No other woman made him feel more cherished and accepted as she did when he was in her arms. She had the power to make him feel better about himself. She made him feel whole.

 

After a few minutes, he was aware that she was disengaging from him and, as he drifted back to sleep, he heard the shower. When he awakened again, she was getting dressed. She looked beautiful in a cashmere jumper and jeans.

 

"All right, John," she cooed and moved toward the bed. "I guess I'll see you in court."

She bent down to kiss him and he tried to pull her down on him, but she eluded his grasp.

"You're such a wicked man," she grinned at him.

He smiled and said, "Yes I am."

 

"Goodbye, darling," she said with a little wave.

"Bye, George.”

 

He rolled over to George's side of the bed. He could still smell her on the pillow. Their relationship, if you could call it that, was part raw sexuality, part comfort. But he always felt that there was something more to it than that.

 

He and Jo had not made love for more than three weeks because she was appearing before him in court in several cases. Unlike George, Jo refused to have anything to do with him when she was before him in court for fear of being discovered and disbarred. Regardless, he and Jo seemed to have reached a comfortable spot in their relationship, at least for them, seeing each other frequently. But they had often been angry with each other - he for her association with Radical Lawyers for Justice and she for his perceived alignment with the legal establishment. Their anger had frequently fueled their sex which made things more exciting, he thought, but she was often distant afterwards. Much of their anger had diminished after they had both been put in jeopardy by an illegal recording of them having sex, made by a rogue security organization in league with the Home Office.

 

He looked at the clock and realized that he’d better get in the shower so he wouldn't be late for his appointment with his psychiatrist. He had been seeing Dr. Margot Briones for a while, but hadn't told anyone about it. Dr. Briones had urged him to enlist a friend or loved one to support him outside of therapy. He was reluctant to ask Jo because he was afraid that it would cause more friction between them when she heard the messy details of his illness, but there wasn’t anyone else he could ask. Because of the nature of his illness, asking Charlie would be out of the question.

 

Dr. Briones had put him on an anti-anxiety medication and told him that it would not only calm his anxiety but that it might help quell the obsessive sexual thoughts he had. So far, he had noticed little difference and the medication made him sleepy. Therapy was painful and difficult and his prognosis was not good, but he persevered because he wanted a chance to have a future with Jo.


	2. Chapter 2

He walked the five blocks to Dr. Briones’ office in the warm sun. He had first met Dr. Briones years ago when she testified in his court. She had been a pathologist then, but had recently returned to her first love – psychiatry. She was in her 70s and he felt comfortable with her, or at least as comfortable as he was ever going to feel talking to anyone about his problems. He thought she was kind and, as uncomfortable as therapy was for him, he felt that she was sincerely trying to help him.

He had been in therapy for six weeks. The first four weeks, which entailed three-day-per-week visits, had been intense. He had not been prepared for the dark places within himself that he had been forced to visit. They talked about his mother’s suicide, his shock at finding out as an adult that he had been adopted, his feelings of loneliness and isolation, his love for Jo and, of course, his sexual issues. In the process, she had stripped away his alpha male façade, leaving him feeling raw and exposed.

She explained to him that what he projected to the world – the aggressive, dominant, confident male – was just a way of protecting himself from feelings of unworthiness, insecurity, and self-loathing. Much of this, she said, came from his inability to come to terms with his mother’s death, which he felt as abandonment. As a result, he suffered from anxiety and she thought it prudent to treat this first before tackling any of his other problems. She warned him that getting the correct dosage on anti-anxiety medications often took a great deal of trial and error and he would need to be patient.

Her office was in what had been a bedsit under the front stairs of her home. She used the rear part of the large room as her office because it was filled with light and overlooked the garden. He sat on the couch and she in a chair facing him.

"How was your week, Sir John?" she asked.

"Busy. I had several difficult cases before me.”

"How is the anti-anxiety medication working? Still making you sleepy?"

"Yes, very. Most days, I have trouble staying awake much past ten in the evening."

"You must be sleeping better, then.”

"I am, but I hate the hangover from it. It makes me groggy and it’s sometimes hard to concentrate.”

"And do you think it's helping with the anxiety?"

"I can’t tell. It seems the same."

"What about sex?"

“What about it?” he asked. And she shot him a look that said, “You know what I mean.”

"I had sex with my ex-wife four times this week," he admitted and shifted on the couch. He hated this part.

"You two seem to have gotten into a routine.”

"Well, she's given the Home Secretary the elbow, so she's available."

"What about Mrs. Mills?"

"She's still appearing before me in several cases.” He had told her about Jo's prohibition of him when she appeared before him in court.

"Does seeing your ex-wife so often help stop or slow down the thoughts?"

He laughed. "Between the medication and George, I don't have a lot of energy to act on those thoughts.”

"Four times per week is a lot more than most people have sex, Sir John.”

"We're not talking about most people, are we?" he said somewhat sharply. “I am allowed to have sex, aren’t I?”

"Of course, but if you want to form a lasting relationship with Mrs. Mills, sleeping with your ex-wife does nothing to further that."

He had no answer for her. Of course, it didn't help. He looked back at her sheepishly.

“Have you spoken to Mrs. Mills about participating in your therapy? I think it’s important.”

“We’re both very busy right now. I haven’t had a chance to talk to her about it.”

“I’m sensing some reluctance on your part. What’s that about?”

He looked down at his clasped hands. He did not want to talk about this. Finally, he said, “I don’t want her to find out what a weak, pathetic bastard I am. I’m afraid she’ll hate me.”

“Why would she hate you when she finds out that what you do isn’t your fault, but the result of illness? Right now she thinks you do this because you want to.”

“That’s not the man she’s in love with, is it? No one could love the man I really am.”

“She already knows you have a problem and if she loves you as much as you say she does, she’ll want to know the truth.”

“It’s bad enough what I do to her. Saying it to her aloud? I don’t think she signed on for that.”

He agreed to try a different drug for anxiety and  left feeling the way he always did - like a child who had been scolded. He knew she was right, but still he resented having to recite the litany of his sexual activity. But he was determined to see it through.

 

He ran a few errands and while he was on his way back to his flat, his phone rang. It was Jo.

“Jo, has my luck changed?”

“You know I’m still appearing before you until probably Thursday.”

“Well, would you like to have dinner Thursday night?”

“Can’t, I’m having dinner with Michelle.” Michelle was a friend from school.

“Friday?”

“Yes, Friday would be perfect. Let’s plan on that.”


	3. Chapter 3

Their work week progressed as they thought it would – both cases wrapped up on Thursday. Jo was looking forward to dinner with Michelle. They ate at a cafe Michelle had recommended that was only several blocks from John’s flat. After dinner, and with the glow of several glasses of wine in her, Jo decided that she couldn’t wait until the next day to see John, she wanted to be in his arms tonight, so she walked over to his flat. On the way, she thought better of a surprise visit and decided she’d call first. She had been burned more than once by turning up at his flat unannounced only to find him with someone else.

His phone went to voicemail. She didn’t leave a message but kept walking toward his flat.

When she arrived, Malcolm, the porter, was standing inside the front door with a worried expression on his face.

“I’m glad you’re here, Mrs. Mills. The EMTs are up with him now.”

“What? What’s happened?”

“I don’t really know.”

She flew up the two flights of stairs to his flat. The door was open. The EMTs had him on the floor and were working on him. His dog, Mimi, was pacing nervously near him.

She knelt beside him and said, “John, I’m here.” She took his hand and squeezed it. He looked horrible. He had sweated through the front of the t-shirt he was wearing and his breathing was ragged. His eyes were filled with panic.

The EMTs loaded him onto a trolley and rolled him out the door toward the lift. They told her they were taking him to St. Victor’s, which was four blocks away. She grabbed his wallet and keys, and scooped up Mimi handing her to Malcolm on her way out the front door. She hailed a cab, called Charlie and left a message that her dad was ill and they were taking him to St. Victor’s. She told the cab driver to speed and he did. She arrived at the hospital just a few minutes after the ambulance did.

 

The A&E triage nurse asked her to fill out paperwork and, working from the information in John’s wallet, she was able to fill in most of the requested information. She found a card in his wallet for a Dr. Margot Briones, so she entered that as his primary physician. In the Next of Kin box, she put her name.

Fifteen minutes later, a consultant came out to talk to her.

“Mrs. Mills, are you his wife?”

“Yes,” she lied.

“Were you with him?”

“No. Is he going to be all right?”

“Well, he’s stable and he’s gone up for tests. It could be an hour or more before we know anything. I’ll come find you.”

She sat down in the waiting area and tried to think of anyone else she should call. It occurred to her that she needed to call John’s clerk, Rita Cooper, who had given Jo her home number in case she ever needed it.

“Mrs. Mills, is anything wrong?” Coop said.

“I’m so sorry to bother you this evening Coop, but I’m at St. Victor’s with John.”

“Oh, dear. Is he all right?”

“I don’t know. He may have had a heart attack. They’re running tests now.”

“Oh, no.”

“I thought I should let you know so you can postpone his cases for tomorrow.”

“Yes, I’ll do that. Thanks for letting me know.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I know something.”

“Yes, please do. Mrs. Mills, I’d be glad to come to sit with you, if you want me to.”

“Thanks, Coop, but I’m OK.”

“What about Charlie? And where is Mimi?”

“I called Charlie and left a message. Mimi’s with the porter at John’s flat.” She reiterated to Coop that she would call as soon as she knew anything.

She sat, she tried to read a magazine, she tried to drink vending machine tea, and then she paced. Fortunately, it was a slow night in A&E and there were only a few people in the waiting room. _What’s taking so long?_ she thought.

An hour or so later, the consultant appeared with a hopeful look on his face. “Good news, Mrs. Mills. His heart checked out fine – it’s just an anxiety attack.”

“What? Anxiety?”

“Yes. His physician says she’s treating him with Klonopin.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a common anti-anxiety medication. You didn’t know he was taking it?”

“No. But if he’s taking medication, why did he have an attack?’

“It’s hard to say. Sometimes it’s a dosage issue, other times it’s a bad reaction to a specific drug. I’ll let you know when you can see him.”

Jo was puzzled. _Anxiety?_ John didn’t seem anxious to her. She’d seen him in court and they’d talked on the phone and he seemed fine.

The consultant reappeared about 15 minutes later. “Mrs. Mills, there’s been a change in Sir John’s condition.”

“What’s happened?”

“Sir John became very agitated. We’ve admitted him and I’m afraid that we’ve had to restrain him. His doctor’s with him, but he’s asking for you. I can take you to him.”

Jo followed the consultant to the lift and, after a short wait, they were on their way to the fifth floor. As they walked down the hallway, she could hear a general commotion coming from one of the rooms down the hall. As they approached, she could clearly hear John.

As she entered the room and John took one look at her and shouted, “Jo, get me out of here.”

She moved toward the bed and saw that he was pulling violently on his restraints. His face was flushed, he was sweating and his eyes were wild. An older woman, whom she presumed was his doctor, was at his bedside trying unsuccessfully to calm him.

Jo went to his bedside and the older woman stepped back. “John, you have to calm down.” She put one hand on his chest and the other on his forehead in an effort to push him back down on the bed. He resisted her strongly, pushing against the hand on his forehead. A nurse came to assist her, putting her arms on his chest and leaning against him. He continued to buck and pull.

“Everything’s OK, John,” Jo said soothingly. “Come on, John, just try to relax. I’m right here.”

“Jo, get me untied,” he shouted. “I don’t want to be here.”

“Shh, John, it’s OK. You’re all right. You’re safe.”

Just then, another nurse appeared at his bedside with a syringe which she injected into his IV. He continued to thrash and just as the nurse said to Jo, “Watch your head,” he reared up and his head made contact with her mouth. Jo took a step back and her hand shot up to her mouth. She could taste blood.

“Are you all right?” asked the nurse.

“Yeah, I think so,” said Jo. At that point, it appeared that the drug was beginning to work because he could only lift his head slightly from the pillow. His eyes were closing and he whispered, “Jo.” And then he was quiet.

“Whew,” said the nurse. “Thank you for the help, miss. Have you ever seen him like this?”

“Never.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s quite upsetting to see him tied to a bed and in this state.”

“Yes,” said Jo, holding her hand up to her lip and staring at John.

“Let me take a look at that lip,” said the nurse, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. She told Jo that it didn’t look bad and put a small piece of cotton between her lower lip and teeth. “If it doesn’t stop bleeding in an hour, come get me. We may have to put a stitch in it.”

“You must be Mrs. Mills,” said the woman at John’s bedside. “I’m Margot Briones, Sir John’s psychiatrist.”

Jo removed the cotton from her mouth. “Psychiatrist? What’s going on here? John has anxiety? Since when?”

“We need to talk, Mrs. Mills.”

Suddenly, Charlie appeared in the door. “Jo, is dad all right?” She walked toward the bed. Jo was grateful that Charlie hadn’t arrived a few minutes earlier.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Charlie, Jo and Dr. Briones walked down the hall and sat in the small, deserted waiting area. Jo’s lip had stopped bleeding and she discarded the cotton.

“Did dad have a heart attack?” asked Charlie. “Is he going to be OK?”

“Charlie, your dad had an anxiety attack,” said Dr. Briones. “They frequently look like heart attacks.”

Dr. Briones told them that John had given her permission to share his medical information with both of them on an as-needed basis. She told them that he had been in therapy with her for about six weeks, which came as a surprise to both of them. She told them that she was attempting to get his anxiety under control.

“I thought my dad had trouble with women,” said Charlie.

“Charlie, your dad has several issues, but the most pervasive is anxiety,” said Dr. Briones.

Charlie looked at Jo and asked, “Did you know this?”

“No, Charlie, I didn’t,” said Jo. “We’re confused, Dr. Briones.”

“I can see that,” said Dr. Briones. “I’ve diagnosed Sir John with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder – Abandonment. It’s the result of his never coming to terms with his mother’s suicide.”

“Suicide?” said Jo.

“What?” said Charlie. “Grandma killed herself? And I thought PTSD was something soldiers got.”

“I’m sorry, this obviously comes as a shock to both of you. It didn’t occur to me that he hadn’t told you. Any time someone has an unresolved trauma, whether it be war related or not, it can cause PTSD,” said Dr. Briones. “It really describes a whole range of symptoms.”

Jo and Charlie looked at each other in bewilderment.

“When he was ten years old, his adoptive mother killed herself,” said Dr. Briones. “Sir John has never had any kind of treatment or therapy for it. As a result, he has severe, unprocessed trauma.”

“You’re saying my dad’s mental?” Charlie interrupted.

“Not in the way you’re thinking, Charlie,” said Dr. Briones with a smile. “He doesn’t hear voices or have huge mood swings, but he has some emotional issues that cause anxiety.”

“Why haven’t either of us ever noticed this?” Jo asked.

“You probably have, but you just didn’t know what it was,” said Dr. Briones. “He has specific anxiety surrounding abandonment by women. He doesn’t trust women – he’s afraid they’ll leave him like his mother did. This accounts for his inability to form lasting relationships with women. In effect, he abandons women before they can abandon him.”

 Jo asked, “Then why does he want to marry me? Isn’t he afraid that I’ll leave him?”

“Yes, he’s constantly afraid that you’ll leave him but he thinks that if you marry him, you can fix him,” said Dr. Briones.

“Can I?” Jo asked.

“No, it’ll take a good deal of therapy and even then, there are no guarantees,” said Dr. Briones. She paused, “He also has generalized anxiety, which is what he’s experiencing now.”

“What is it that makes him anxious?” asked Charlie.

“That’s a good question, Charlie,” said Dr. Briones. “Sometimes it seems to have no cause, but it’s usually caused by some kind of stress. I gather he’s under a good deal of stress in his job.”

Both Charlie and Jo nodded.

“You said that PTSD is a range of symptoms?” said Jo. “What are the other symptoms?”

“In Sir John’s case, trouble sleeping, mistrust, self-destructive behavior and fear. These symptoms cause low self-esteem, insecurity, and self-loathing,” said Dr. Briones. “When his mother died, he became stuck in time emotionally. As a result, he deals with emotional issues as if he were a ten-year old. He can be combative and petulant in response to authority, he has poor impulse control and poor self-awareness – he doesn’t always see that his actions have consequences or that they affect other people. His coping mechanisms are rather limited – he doesn’t know how to self-soothe like most of us do. He, uh, uses other means to self-comfort.”

“But that doesn’t sound at all like my dad,” said Charlie.

“I have to agree with Charlie, although I’ve seen the 10-year old before,” said Jo thoughtfully. “But low self-esteem and insecurity in no way describe him. If anything, he’s domineering, confident and, at times, arrogant.”

“Yes, he’s definitely an alpha male,” said Dr. Briones. “He protects himself from all of those negative feelings by projecting that persona to the world.”

Dr. Briones’ phone buzzed and she pulled it out of her pocket to look at it. She looked at them and said, “I’m sorry, but I need to take this call, would you please excuse me?”

While Dr. Briones stepped away, Charlie and Jo tried to make sense of what they had just heard.

“I feel so bad for dad. Why didn’t I know anything about this?”

“I know, Charlie. I’ve always known that there was something about your dad that wasn’t quite right, but I didn’t expect this.”

Dr. Briones returned to tell them that she had to attend to another patient. She gave Jo her card and asked her to call when she had a chance. Charlie left because she had an early morning con with a client and she still had some reading to do. Jo promised to call her if there was any change in her dad’s condition.

 

Jo went back down the hall to John’s room. The nurse was there with her laptop documenting his vital signs. She smiled at Jo and said, “His vitals are good. I’m going to change his gown and the sheet and give him a sponge bath because he’s sweated quite a bit.”

“May I help you?”

“Sure.”

Jo went into the bathroom to get a cool, damp cloth to wipe him off and a towel to dry him. The nurse freed him from the restraints and unhooked the urine collection bag from the side of the bed and put it in the bed with him. She put her hand under his head so as not to hurt his neck and rolled him onto his side. She rolled up half of the damp sheet and pushed the gown onto the front side of his body. Jo wiped down the backside of his body and toweled him off. The nurse and Jo carefully rolled him to his other side, removing the sheet and his gown.

“I always wondered how you did that.”

“Trick of the trade,” said the nurse and smiled.

Jo wiped down the front of his body with the damp cloth and dried him. She rubbed his wet hair with the towel to try to dry it. They repeated the rolling process to get the clean sheet on the bed and the fresh gown on him.

 “Do you have to restrain him?” asked Jo.

“I’m afraid I do,” said the nurse. “It’s really for his own safety. The consultant will check him in the morning and if he’s no longer agitated, he’ll be freed from the restraints. But he should sleep through the night. Let me know if there’s anything you need.”

Jo thanked her. She stood by his bed and looked into the face of the man whom she had loved for so long and wondered if she’d ever really known him. Even in sleep he wasn’t at rest. His face was still slightly flushed and his jaw was clenched. Her heart broke for him. _Why didn’t you tell me, John?_ She put her hand on the top of his chest and rubbed it in a small, up and down motion, the way she had when her sons were toddlers and she was trying to get them to sleep. She knew he couldn’t feel it, but somehow it comforted her. She always had the impression that somewhere inside him there was a motor churning away. _Was that the anxiety?_ She bent down and kissed him on the forehead and told him that she loved him.


	5. Chapter 5

The night was passing slowly and Jo was unable to get comfortable in the chair at John’s bedside. He hadn’t stirred since they’d sedated him. Leaning over his bed, she kissed him and stroked his cheek, and whispered, “I won’t ever leave you, John.”

The nurse was in and out, taking vitals, checking monitors, and emptying his bag. Jo went downstairs for more tea and when she came back to his room there was a woman sitting beside his bed.

“Are you Mrs. Mills?” the woman said.

“Yes.”

“I’m Nancy Hoffmann. I’m a psychiatric nurse. Dr. Briones wanted me to talk to you about Sir John’s condition.”

“John’s daughter and I met with Dr. Briones earlier this evening.”

“Yes, she said she’d talked to you about the PTSD, but she wanted me to talk to you about Sir John’s other problem. She didn’t want to talk about it in front of his daughter.”

Jo sighed heavily, sat down, and said, “Now what?”

“Sir John has what’s called hypersexual disorder.”

“And what is that?”

 “Basically, he has obsessive sexual thoughts many times per day that lead to compulsive sexual behavior.”

She put her face in her hand. She was weary, as a long day seemed to have no end in sight and the news just kept getting worse. “This is what makes him want to sleep with other women?”

“Yes, but it’s a little more complicated than that.”

“How so?”

“Sometimes he’s triggered by a stressor that makes him feel overwhelmed and he feels compelled to act on his thoughts. He uses sex as a coping mechanism to self-medicate.” After a slight pause, she said “There are other symptoms, too.”

 “What other symptoms?” said Jo trying desperately to get a handle on what the nurse was saying.

“The proximity of a woman he finds attractive can cause physical arousal, although at his age, this probably happens a lot less than it used to. He may engage in risky behavior to get his needs met.”

“Yes, he is a risk taker.” _God,_ thought Jo _, can this get any worse?_ “Has he had this all his life?”

“The onset was probably puberty, he says he knew it was a problem when he was in his twenties.”

“So, he’s known about this since then?”

“Yes, but he’s probably never understood it thoroughly.”

“So, what’s the treatment for it?”

“Psychotherapy and there is some evidence that some drugs may help, but it’s tricky. Some people have better luck with treatment than others.”

“Was this also caused by his mother’s suicide?”

“Yes, at that age the brain isn’t fully formed and is very plastic. The trauma of his mother’s death likely caused a chemical change in Sir John’s brain. A chemical called dopamine helps regulate pleasure by sending signals to the brain’s reward center. Proteins found in the brain help send the signals. Sir John’s brain is deficient in these proteins and he doesn’t have an efficient reward center so he has to overstimulate himself with sex to get the pleasurable feelings he seeks. Sex releases the chemicals he needs to feel better, which temporarily ease the underlying feelings that cause him to seek sex. The more this happens, the more stimulation he needs. It’s a vicious cycle that’s hard to break. At times, when he has a sexual fantasy or idea, he fixates on it and he can’t let go of the idea. What we can do is teach him to recognize his triggers and manage his symptoms, but his brain chemistry can’t be changed.”

“Triggers and managing symptoms make me think of an addiction. My dad was an alcoholic.”

“This condition is sometimes called sex addiction and in many ways his brain works like an addict’s. But his is called a process addiction rather than a substance addiction, like drugs or alcohol. He’s addicted to the behavior, like people who binge eat or gamble.”

Jo’s mind was reeling. “So, he thinks about having sex all the time?”

“Not all the time, but much more frequently than the average person.”

Jo didn’t know what to say. The nurse said sympathetically, “It’s a lot to take in.”

 Jo gathered herself and said, “What can I do to help him?”

“You can be present for him, listen to him without judging, and be patient. All easier said than done, I’m afraid. Dr. Briones would like you to attend his therapy sessions with him so that he has some support outside of therapy.”

“OK. What kind of life could we have together?”

Nancy frowned, “To be honest, most relationships with men like this don’t last. It’s a lot to ask another person to be both a partner and a caregiver. Even when things are going well, he won’t ever be able to manage this perfectly. Eventually, he’ll become stressed about something and fall back into old habits.”

“I see. Thank you for being honest with me.”

“Have you two been together long?”

“Yes, off and on for a very long time.” She felt compelled to defend him. “He’s really a very good man,” she trailed off. “Our relationship is complicated. I just thought he was immature and irresponsible, that he just did it without thinking. I thought that if he’d talk to someone about it, maybe he’d realize what he was doing and grow up.”

“That’s a common misconception, but you have to remember that he does it without thinking – there’s no choice or rational thought involved. It’s simply a chemical reaction in his brain that eventually compels him to act.”

Jo just shook her head. “I don’t know the man you’re describing. I know who he really is – he’s kind and compassionate. Yes, he has some issues, but …” she didn’t finish the sentence.

The nurse gave Jo a knowing smile. _This woman is not going to give up on this man,_ she thought. _That means a rough road ahead for her._

“I hate to pile more on you, but depression is a real possibility.”

“How will I know?”

“He may lose interest in something that’s been important to him, he’ll sleep more than usual or maybe drink more. He may seem listless and unengaged.”

“That will be treated with medication?”

“Yes, but it’s very important to catch it early on. Because of his mother’s suicide, he’s three times more likely to commit suicide than others.”

Jo put her hand up to her face and took a deep breath.

“Just keep a close eye on him.” She gave Jo her card and told her to call if there was anything she could help with. She also told Jo about a support group for partners of men with hypersexual disorder.

She thought back to the beginning of the evening when all she wanted was to make love to him. It seemed like such a simple idea, but nothing was ever simple with John. She felt overwhelmed by the complexity of his illness and by the poor prognosis.

She went out to the small kitchen adjacent to the nurses’ station to reheat her tea. Then she went back to his room and straightened the sheet a little. He stirred momentarily. She held her palm against his cheek for a moment and then sat down in the chair.

She thought about Marc Thompson, her fiancée who left her at the altar. He was compulsive, too – always lecturing her about keeping the towels in the bathroom neat and barring the children from a room in the house to keep it tidy. _What is it about me that I’m attracted to men like this?_

She spent part of the night just walking in the corridor until at last she was worn out, she came back to his room, lowered the guard rail on the bed, held his hand, put her head down on the bed and slept.


	6. Chapter 6

He woke up slowly, opening his eyes, blinking, and then falling back to sleep. Finally, he woke, aware that someone was standing by the bed. He blinked and tried to focus his eyes.

“John?” said Jo. “Are you awake?”

“Sort of,” he said, still unaware of who he was talking to.

She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “It’s Jo. You’re in hospital. You came in last night, do you remember?”

“What’s wrong with me?”

“You had an anxiety attack.”

“I did? Am I OK?”

“The doctors have to check you, but you seem OK to me,” she smiled and stroked his hair.

He shifted in the bed and then realized that he was restrained. “Why am I tied down?”

“You became very agitated and they had to restrain and sedate you to keep you from injuring yourself.”

“What?” he said surprised.

“You were thrashing about and begging me to take you home.”                                            

“I don’t remember any of that.” He noticed her puffy lip. “What happened to your lip?”

“You accidentally head butted me last night.”

“Oh, God, Jo, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right, no harm done,” she said and smiled.

He shifted in the bed again, got a funny look on his face, and said, “Lift the sheet for me.”

She did.

“Why am I catheterized?”

“They do that to patients who are heavily sedated and restrained.”

He frowned. “So, what do I have to do to get out of here?”

“As I understand it, the consultant will be in shortly and when he sees that you’re no longer agitated, he should release you.”

The consultant came in and checked him over and told him he would be able to go home in a few hours after his labs came back. The nurse came in, took some blood, and removed the restraints.

Jo sat down on the edge of his bed and handed him the tea she had gotten from the canteen. He took a swallow and then set it down on the bedside table.

In the calmest voice possible she said, “John, Charlie and I met with Dr. Briones last night.”

He exhaled loudly and frowned.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she said quietly.

“Tell you what?”

“John.”

He looked down and said, “I planned to tell you, it’s just that we’ve both been so busy. There just wasn’t a good time.”

“You should have found the time.”

“Really? And when would have been a good time to tell you that I’m much more screwed up than you could have possibly imagined?” He turned his head away from her.

 “John, I thought we could tell each other anything.”

Turning back to her, he said, “Oh God, does Charlie know?”

“She knows about the PTSD. Dr. Briones thought it best not to tell her about the other.”

“Good. That’s not anything I want her to know about.” He looked at her and shook his head, “I’m sorry, Jo. It’s just so hard to talk about.”

“You told me years ago that your mother died when you were very young, but you never told me how.”

“Only a few people know,” he said quietly.

“Who? Does George know?”

“No.”

“Who?” she said vehemently.

He hesitated. “Morag and …”

“And who?”

He sighed. “Vivian Hurst.”

She turned away abruptly and then turned back to him. “You told two random women you slept with and not me?”

“I, um, needed someone to talk to and I …”

“And that someone wasn’t me.”

“You were with Marc Thompson,” he almost shouted.

She stood there looking at him and then said, “Dr. Briones wants me to attend therapy with you. What do you think?”

“Jo, I appreciate the offer, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“John, please let me help. If we’re to have any kind of future together, you’re going to have to talk to me. Help me to understand.”

He sighed heavily. “Let me think about it.”

“OK. I’ve got to go home and shower and change and then I’ll swing by your flat to get you some fresh clothes.”

“Were you here all night?”

“Yes. I didn’t want to leave you alone here.”

“Thank you,” he said taking her hand.

“John, you may not have heard me, but I told you last night that I would never leave you, and I meant it.”

The nurse came in. “Let’s get that catheter out, Sir John.”

“No,” he said adamantly. “I want a male nurse.”

“Sir John, I’ve had a lot of experience with this and I was the one who inserted it.”

“I don’t care, I want a male nurse to remove it,” he said sharply.

“I’ll go find one, then.”

Jo kissed him, promising to be back around nine when he was due to be discharged.


	7. Chapter 7

After a shower, Jo stopped by John’s flat to get him a change of clothes and to check on Mimi. When she got to the hospital, she found him sitting in a chair reading the paper.

“You look quite fetching in that gown,” she laughed.

“All I need is clothes and we’re out of here.”

He changed and she drove him home. When they arrived at his flat, Malcolm was polishing the brass on the front door and Mimi was tied to the handle. She burst into barking upon seeing John come up the front steps.

“Hello, darling,” he said, untying her, and gathering her up in his arms. “Did you miss me?”

“She did,” grinned Malcolm.

“Thanks for taking care of her.”

“She was no trouble at all. Are you all right, my Lord?”

“I’m fine,” said John as he and Jo walked through the front door.

In his flat, both were anxious for a good cup of tea, so Jo made a pot. They took their tea on the couch in the living room.

“The tea at the hospital was so bad, if you had been in there any longer, it may well have put me off tea all together,” she said.

“It was pretty wretched,” he laughed.

They sat in silence for a while, just enjoying their tea. “What are you up to today?” he asked.

“Nothing. I didn’t know what was going to happen so I took the whole day off.”

“I have an idea.”

“Uh oh.”

“Well, you haven’t heard it yet,” he said with a grin. “Why don’t we drive down to Brighton and spend the night? We could get some fresh sea air and have dinner at 24 St. Georges.”

She looked at him for a moment and then smiled and said, “I would love that, but do you think we could find a room? It’s not high season yet, but it’s bound to be packed with holidaymakers already.”

“I think we could find something. If we couldn’t get a room on the Channel, we could at least get close. C’mon, let’s do it. After the week we’ve had, we deserve it.”

The wheels in her head were turning. “Are you sure you feel well enough?”

“Sure. I’m a bit tired, but you can help bring me back to life.”

“OK, I’ll go back home and pack a bag. Will you take care of the rest of it?”

“I’m on it,” he said, picking up his phone.

“What about Mimi?”

“Oh, um, I could call Charlie. I hate to ask Malcolm again.”

“Charlie’s got a big case, best not call her.”

“Would Michelle be open to dog sitting for one night?”

“Let me see.”

She went home to pack and called Michelle to ask if Mimi could stay with her. He made a dinner reservation at 24 St. Georges and was lucky enough to find a room with a Channel view. He ordered a large vase of spring flowers delivered to the room. He packed, picked Jo up and they dropped Mimi off at Michelle’s an hour later.

On the drive down to Brighton, they agreed there would be no talk of cases, the law or therapy. This day was just for the two of them. They checked into the hotel, had lunch in the dining room and headed to the pier. It was a warm, sunny day and they walked the pier and looked at the water and then walked along the water’s edge. Later, they poked around in antique shops and other small shops. She admired a delicately woven vintage sterling silver bracelet and he bought it for her. They went back to the hotel and stopped at the spa so she could inquire about getting a massage.

“Let’s get a couple’s massage.”

He frowned, “I’m not in to massages, but you go ahead.”

She was able to get in right away and he went back to the room where he read for a while and then dozed off. When he woke up, she was curled up beside him.

“How was the massage?”

“Wonderful,” she said sleepily. They lay spooned on the bed and soon fell asleep. They woke up later than they expected to, both admitting that they had been tired.

“Care to shower with me, Mrs. Mills?”

“Hmm, that’s very tempting, my Lord.”

“I promise not to head butt you.”

“Well, in that case, how can I resist?” she said laughing.

They laughed and kissed in the shower and then lounged on the bed in bathrobes. There was a knock at the door and he got up to answer it. A waiter carrying an ice bucket came into the room and set it down on the desk, along with two champagne flutes. John signed for it and then opened the champagne with a pop, spilling a little on the carpeting. He poured two glasses, took them to the bed and handed one to Jo.

“To us,” he toasted.

“To us.”

When it was time for dinner, they dressed – he in a light blue shirt and an off-white linen suit, she in a long charcoal dress with an asymmetrical neckline. She wore her new bracelet.

“My God you’re beautiful,” he said.

“I was just thinking the same thing about you,” she smiled.

They went downstairs and when the doorman asked if they wanted a taxi, they said they’d walk the few blocks to the restaurant.

The airiness of the restaurant disguised its small size. The maître de instantly recognized John and welcomed him back. They were shown to an intimate corner table.

They had a fabulous dinner, complete with wine, mussels for her and beet risotto with citrus and pine nuts for him. After coffee, they walked back to the hotel but not before walking out to the end of the boardwalk to look at the darkening water.

He took her in his arms. “I love you, Jo.”

“I love you, John. Thank you for a perfect day.”

“Oh, it’s not over yet,” he said with a grin.

They kissed. She longed to feel his body next to hers and to smell and taste him.

“Fancy a nightcap back at the hotel?” he said.

She was surprised that he didn’t want to get her into bed as soon as possible, but she liked the heightened anticipation.

In the hotel bar, they sat in a booth, both on the same side, she against the window. They ordered cognac and enjoyed the fire, lit because nights were still chilly on the Channel.

He picked up her hand, entwined her fingers in his and kissed it, looking deeply into her eyes. The waiter brought their drinks.

After a while, he leaned in, kissed her lightly and whispered, “Mrs. Mills, would you consider going upstairs with me so that I can make love to you?”

She laughed, swallowed the rest of her drink in one gulp and said, “I thought you’d never ask, my Lord.”

In the lift on the way upstairs, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. They were all lips and tongues. He pressed himself against her in the corner of the lift and she was starting to unbutton his shirt when they arrived at their floor. They practically ran down the corridor to their room and it took him two tries to open the door.

Once inside their room, clothes were dispatched immediately. The maid had turned down the bed and turned on the bedside lamps. They lay together hungrily kissing and caressing each other. She noticed that he had bite marks on his shoulder, the back of his neck, and on the inside of one of his thighs, but she ignored them. _No recriminations tonight,_ she thought.

 

Afterward, they lay side-by-side and he said, “I hate to let reality creep in here, but we’re going to have to get up early tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“I have an appointment with Dr. Briones at nine.”

“That’s when you go? On Saturday mornings?”

“Yes.”

That was the end of the discussion. They soon fell asleep.

 

They awoke where they had fallen asleep – in each other’s arms.

She rolled over to face him. “Good morning,” she said. He smiled. They made love on their sides, face-to-face, looking into each other’s eyes. It was slow and easy and at the same time intense and passionate.

They were mostly silent on the ride home, each basking in the glow of the day they had stolen from their hectic lives. She felt as though she had connected with him in a way she hadn’t for a long time, maybe ever. He felt that she had been more open and giving with him. Both thought that maybe this was a fresh start, even though they knew that a long, difficult road lay ahead.

He dropped her at home and went on to Dr. Briones’ office.


	8. Chapter 8

He rang the buzzer at Dr. Briones’ office. The door buzzed and he went in just as she was getting up from her desk. The glow of his perfect day with Jo was fading rapidly as he realized how angry he was with Dr. Briones.

“Good morning, Sir John,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

 “I’m fine,” he said testily.

“Something wrong?”

 “ _Yes_ , something’s wrong. How dare you tell Charlie and Jo about my condition.”

 “You gave me permission to do that.”

“I only gave you permission to disclose things on an as-needed basis.”

“And you don’t think that being admitted to hospital in a full-blown panic attack qualifies for that?”

“I don’t know. Yes, I guess so.” He sat down heavily. “If Jo comes here with me, it will ruin things,” he said accusingly. “She knows there’s no cure for this, right?”

“Yes, but she also knows that you can be taught to manage your symptoms.”

“But that’s not fool proof.”

“No, it isn’t. Regardless, the cat’s out of the bag. What is it that you’re afraid to tell her?”

“Well, sleeping with George for one. Those two women fight over me like she-devils as it is now.”

“You could just stop sleeping with her.”

“Yes, I could. But it really won’t make any difference, will it? I’ll just find someone else.”

“That’s entirely up to you, Sir John.”

They continued to discuss the pros and cons of Jo attending therapy with him without agreeing on anything. He left in a foul mood.

 

When Jo got home, she called Michelle and they went out for a late breakfast since she only had coffee at the hotel before she and John left Brighton – they were loath to break the spell by reentering the real world and had stayed in bed longer than they should have. Jo was still riding the high of her day in Brighton which she told Michelle about in great detail. Michelle was one of her two close friends. The other one, Linda, lived in Australia and while they spoke on the phone frequently, their long-distance conversations were not always conducive to opening up about serious things.

Jo did not tell Michelle about John’s trip to hospital, nor did she tell her about his diagnoses. After breakfast, Jo started to think seriously about John’s problems and wondered if she could live with them. She had a lot of questions and wanted to talk to Dr. Briones about them as soon as possible.

 

In the late afternoon, John called George and asked if she wanted to come over for an early dinner. She was free that night and said she’d be delighted. Over take away, he told her about his day in Brighton with Jo.

“Oh, how charming,” said George snidely. “I remember when we used to do that. Browse through all those cute little shops, have a wonderful meal, and then shag each other’s brains out. Is that what you did?”

“Something like that, but this time we really connected with each other.” He realized how juvenile that sounded.

“And now you’re going to tell me that we can’t see each other anymore because you two are going to try to make a go of it?” snorted George.

“Yes. George, I have to find a way to make this work and seeing you isn’t going to help that. I’m sorry.”

“Little Miss Oxfam has really worked her magic on you, hasn’t she?” After a pause, she said, “All right, darling, but I think you owe me one last romp, don’t you?”

He watched as she did a slow strip tease, first removing her blouse and bra, then stepping out of her jeans and letting him take her panties off. She slowly unbuttoned his shirt, while kissing him deeply. She knelt, unzipped his trousers and took him into her mouth. After a few minutes, she stopped suddenly and stood up. She took his hand and led him toward the bedroom. In the hallway outside the bedroom, she pushed him up against the wall, kissed him and said, “I want you to remember this and realize what you’re going to be missing. I’ll wager Little Miss Oxfam won’t do this for you.” She pulled off his shirt and bit him hard on the shoulder.

“Damn it, George, I’ve told you not to do that,” he shouted at her. He spun her around, shoved her against the wall and pinned her there with his body. He used his knee to part her legs, and then slammed himself into her from behind, as she grunted and moaned.

“Is this how you like it, hmm?”

“Yes.” she gasped.

“Tell me.”

“You know I love it like this. And so do you.”

 

Afterwards, as he leaned against her, kissing the back of her neck, she pushed him away. There was no snuggling; she went into the living room and dressed quickly then walked back into the hallway where he was still standing.

 “Look, George, we shouldn’t have done this. I’m sorry,” he said.

“What’s this? Guilt?”

“I’m trying to establish a relationship with Jo. This doesn’t help.”

“For the life of me, I can’t figure out what you see in her. She’s pretty enough, I guess, but does she even have a clue what you want or need?”

He sighed.

“Yes, I thought not. She’ll break your heart, John.”

She grabbed his face, kissed him fiercely and said, “Just remember that I’m only a phone call away when you change your mind. Oh, and do up your trousers. You look silly standing there like that.”

She slammed the door on her way out.


	9. Chapter 9

He suddenly remembered that he needed to fetch Mimi from Michelle’s, so he phoned Jo.

“Fancy coffee at that coffee shop around the corner from Michelle’s place?” he asked.

“Sure, I’ll meet you there in 20 minutes.”

They sat at a small table with Mimi at their feet.

 “I can’t stop thinking about our day in Brighton,” she said.

“It was magical, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, and now we have to come back to the real world.”

After a pause, he said, “I want you to come to therapy with me, Jo, if you’re still game.”

“What’s changed?”

“If anything, our day in Brighton showed me just how good our future could be and I’ll do anything to give that a chance.”

“But you still don’t feel good about my coming.”

He hesitated, “You’re going to hear some things that, um, are pretty ugly and twisted.”

_There’s the anxiety,_ she thought. “Let’s just take it a step at a time and see how it goes.”

“Yes, all right,” he said uneasily. They finished their coffees and he took Mimi home.

 

The following Saturday, they met at Dr. Briones’ office. Dr. Briones was happy to see Jo and welcomed her.

“I’m so glad you agreed to do this, Mrs. Mills,” said Dr. Briones.

“Please, call me Jo.”

“Very well. My goal here is to get you and Sir John talking to each other.”

“I understand. I just want to help, if I can.” She reached out and touched John’s hand. They were sitting in chairs facing Dr. Briones’ desk.

“And please call me John, Dr. Briones,” he said. “You know some of my darkest secrets, so there’s no need to stand on ceremony.”

Dr. Briones nodded. “Jo, what questions do you have?”

“Well, I did a little reading about PTSD on the internet, so I think I have a better understanding of it than I did before. But is there a cure for it?”

“Sometimes. It can take a long time and a lot of work.”

“When you say work, what does that entail?” asked Jo.

“John needs to be able to express and understand his feelings about his mother’s death. We’ll do that simply by revisiting the event and talking about his feelings then, as a 10-year old, and now, as an adult. Eventually, he needs to be able to let go of the 10-year old’s feelings, because they’re inappropriate.”

_Right,_ he thought _, talk about me like I’m not in the room._

“Inappropriate?” asked Jo.

“He feels partially to blame for his mother’s death. He thinks that if he had been a better son, that she wouldn’t have left him that way. He sees her death as something she did to him.”

“I see.”

“In simple terms, he doesn’t feel worthy of being loved. He’s afraid of being abandoned again, specifically by you and also by Charlie, to some extent.”

_How pathetic is that?_ he thought _._

Jo turned to John and put her hand on his arm, “I’m sorry for what you’ve been through.”

“Your pity doesn’t help, Jo” he said angrily as he turned away from her, pulling his arm away.

“It’s not pity, it’s sorrow, it’s love. I love you, John. I want to help us get through this so we can build a future together. I’ll do whatever I need to do.”

He looked back at her and smiled a weak smile, “I’m sorry, Jo. It’s just that this is so difficult for me.”

They continued to talk about his mother’s death. He told her about coming home from school to find his sister sitting at the kitchen table crying, how his dad told him that his mother had taken her life, how frightened and angry he was, and how he’d never visited his mother’s grave until seven years ago, when they buried his father.

They moved on to his sexual issues. “The nurse told me that you sometimes become sexually excited when you’re near an attractive woman,” said Jo.

_God,_ he thought _, could my life be any more humiliating?_ In a quiet voice he said, “Uh, yes, sometimes I do.”

“Is that why you made such a fuss about the catheter removal?”

“Yes, and the massage, too. I can’t control it and I didn’t want it to happen, well, I never want it to happen, but there seems to be little I can do about it.”

Dr. Briones cut the session short because she could see how difficult it was for both of them. They left the office together. On the sidewalk, Jo started looking for a taxi.

“Do you want to walk back to my flat with me? I could drive you home.”

“I’ll just get a taxi.”

“Could we have dinner?”

“Not tonight, John. It’s just a lot to process.”

He nodded and said quietly, “Yes, it is.” _She already hates me._

A taxi was pulling to the curb as he walked away. She called after him, “John, I do love you.”

He turned back toward her. He didn’t know what to say, so he said, “Thank you.” _You’re such an idiot._

On the way back to his flat, Charlie phoned to see if he was free for dinner. She had a big case and she needed her dad’s advice.


	10. Chapter 10

The next day, Jo phoned early and asked if he’d had breakfast yet. He hadn’t so she picked up some croissants. They ate and read the Sunday Times. He’d made mimosas and after a while they were both a bit sleepy, so they retired to the bedroom for the rest of the morning.

The week was long – he had several complex cases and she was in Sussex. George called several times to try to interest him in dinner or other activities but he declined.

On Saturday, he met Jo at Dr. Briones’ office. Dr. Briones asked about his sexual activity that week and he told her that the previous week he and Jo had made love three times. Jo blushed and he looked at her and smiled, “I know, I hate this part, too.” _You have no idea how much,_ he thought. For the first time, he lied to Dr. Briones and to Jo. He had also had sex with a woman he picked up in a bar and with another woman he’d met at a friend’s retirement party.

“John, it might be helpful to Jo if you explained your obsessive thoughts,” said Dr. Briones.

He sighed heavily and looked down. Jo looked away from him. _Here we go into the weeds_ , he thought.

“Um, well, it’s not like I have voices in my head or anything like that. It’s more like my mind wanders in that direction, when I don’t want it to.”

“Are they sexual fantasies?” asked Jo.

“Yes, mostly, sometimes just general thoughts about sex.”

“How often?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged.

“Guess.”

“Uh, five or six times per day, maybe more,” he said quietly. “It’s not the same every day.”

“Did you have sexual thoughts this week?”

“Yes, of course I did.”

“Did you act on them?”

He looked at her and said emphatically, “No.” _Liar._

“And is it these thoughts that make you want to have sex with me?”

“No, it’s different with you. I want to be with you because I love you.”

“But you once told me that you pretend that you’re in love with these other women when you’re with them.”

He was becoming angry, “I told you, it’s different with you.”

“So, why is it that sometimes you act on your thoughts and sometimes you don’t?”

“Sometimes I can control them by distracting myself – it’s called refocusing. If I can think about something else for 15 minutes or so, I can sometimes stop myself from acting on my thoughts. And sometimes they’re not as strong as at other times. Dr. Briones says when I’m triggered by something it’s hardest to resist them.”

“Triggered by what?”

“Anxiety, stress, loneliness, things I don’t cope with well.”

“Do you think that’s true?”

“Mostly.”

“Mostly? What does that mean?”

“Well, Jo, sometimes I just want to have sex and be close to someone. I am human, you know.”

“And it doesn’t matter who it is?”

“I want to be with you, but …”

“But when I’m not available anyone will do?” Now she was becoming angry. “Tell me what happened with Vivian Hurst.”

He was shocked that she would mention her after so many years. It was a painful chapter for both of them.

“Please Jo …”

“I want you to tell me,” she demanded.

Dr. Briones sensed her rising anger and said, “Jo, maybe it’s best …”

“No, I want to hear this,” Jo said.

He paused and then said, “I thought you were going to South Africa with Marc Thompson. I kept calling and you wouldn’t take my calls. I drove to your flat and I saw you and Thompson kissing.”

“You did?” she said surprised.

“Yes. Later that evening I went out to dinner alone and Vivian Hurst came over to my table and asked to talk to me about the case.”

“That’s highly irregular.”

“I know. That’s what I told her, but I invited her to sit down and have a glass of wine and …”

“And you took her to bed.”

“Yes. I fixated on her the first day she was in my courtroom – I couldn’t stop thinking about her – it’s what I do. I panicked. I needed to be with someone. Honestly, a lot of the time that’s all it is.”

“So, you did that because I was leaving you? It was my fault, is that what you’re saying?”

“No, it was my fault but …”

“Jo, maybe we need a break here,” said Dr. Briones. “You’re becoming emotional.”

“Oh, and is that what you’re here for? To stand up for him? To defend him?”

“No, of course not. He’s trying to explain to you what happened. You shouldn’t be assigning blame. Putting him on the defensive accomplishes nothing.”

“Oh, poor baby,” she said mockingly at John. “It always the same with you, isn’t it? Why can’t you take any responsibility for what you do?”

He was frustrated and angry. He jumped up out of his chair and shouted at her, “Jo, what do you want from me? Do you even love me?”

“Don’t be stupid, of course I do.”

“Most of the time, you treat me as though I’m beneath contempt.”

“Most of the time, I’m so angry at you I can’t see straight.”

He stood there in front of her and ran a hand through his hair and then said, “Am I supposed to be celibate until you decide to sleep with me? You have a wall up around yourself and every once in a while, you toss me a few crumbs. Do you realize how little chance we have to be together? If you’re not before me in court, then you’re cross with me for something I’ve done or a ruling I’ve made. When do you make any time for us?”

He started for the door, but stopped and turned around to stand in front of her. “Jo, after all you’ve heard here, do you think I want to live this way? Do you think anyone would?”

“It’s just that loving you is such a burden sometimes,” she said quietly.

“It is? Really? Well, Jo, thank you for telling me that. Thank you very much. That’s what I really needed to hear right now.”

He wanted to shake her and scream at her, “Why can’t you just love me? Why is that so hard for you?” But he knew it would sound weak and desperate. And that was it – he wasn’t sure she loved him anymore. Years ago, when she had left him to marry Marc Thompson, that was the only thing he _did_ know – he knew without doubt that she loved him. That was what had kept him from going completely over the edge. He knew that all he had to do was be patient and she would come back to him. And she did. But things were not so clear right now. He stood there staring at her and then he left.

 

By the time he got back to his flat, he was sure that it was over between them. She once told him that she felt like she was under his spell. _Have I mistaken this for love? Was she just fascinated with the judge? Had the harsh light of therapy broken the spell?_ The bit about being a burden had stung. They had argued many times before and both had said things they later regretted, but this had a certain meanness to it that other arguments hadn’t had. Although, in his heart, he would have to agree with her. _Hell, I’m a burden to myself. Is this how it’s going to end? The two of us shouting at each other in front of a stranger?_


	11. Chapter 11

It was a rainy Sunday morning and he had been up for hours drinking coffee and reviewing case notes. It had been a gloomy couple of weeks, both weather-wise and personally. Jo was still working in Sussex and wasn’t taking or returning his calls. He had driven to her flat one night, but she wasn’t answering the door buzzer either. She hadn’t shown up for therapy for weeks and, in a way, he was relieved.

The doorbell startled him. He opened the door to find Jo standing in the hallway.

“Jo! Come in,” he said, pleasantly surprised.

She walked into the hallway of his flat, took off her wet raincoat and said, “John, I’m so sorry for the way I reacted at Dr. Briones’ office and I’m sorry that I’ve missed your therapy sessions.”

He took her in his arms, “It’s OK. I can’t imagine how hard this is for you. I’m sorry I got so angry. I thought I had lost you.”

She started to cry, “John, you asked me if I loved you. Do you doubt that? Because no matter what happens between us, I will always love you. And I won’t ever leave you.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just that everything’s so confusing now. I don’t know what to say or do anymore. I let Dr. Briones convince me that it would be better for you if you knew the truth, but I don’t see that it’s helped. If anything, it’s made things worse between us and you’ve had to listen to all of that ugliness.”

He wiped her tears away.

“We _will_ find a way to work this out, John.”

He held her tightly and wished that he had her optimism. Over the past few days a sense of hopelessness had crept into him that he couldn’t shake. For the first time, he wasn’t sure they’d make it.

“You know, she wants me in residential treatment. She says that’s my best chance for recovery.”

“For how long?”

“Four to six weeks, maybe longer.”

“You haven’t had a proper holiday in I can’t remember when. You could get the time off. Or you could take medical leave.”

“And what if the tabloids got hold of it? Can you see the headline? _High Court Judge in Looney Bin for Sex Addiction_. They’d look at every one of my cases involving women. My career would be ruined.”

“I’m sure Dr. Briones has had high profile patients before. She could spirit you away to some out-of-the-way facility under an assumed name.”

“No! It’s too risky.”

“John, we’re talking about the rest of your life, about the rest of our lives.”

He looked at her and she knew she wouldn’t change his mind.

“Want some coffee?” he said, changing the subject.

“That would be nice.”

They sat on the couch and drank coffee and listened to the rain. He told her about his cases and she told him about hers. She leaned against his shoulder and he put an arm around her as they talked quietly.

 

They continued to go to therapy on Saturdays together. He told her things that he had never told anyone, painful things that embarrassed and humiliated him – how he felt when he was with other women, how ashamed and disgusted with himself he was afterwards, how alone he felt. She listened in silence, but smiled at him occasionally to try to let him know that she understood. It was excruciating for both of them.

Sometimes they went back to his flat to get Mimi and walk her in the park before going someplace for lunch. Other times, there was nothing more that he could say, and there was nothing more that she could bear to listen to, so they went their separate ways.

Just as Godzilla grew weary of destroying Tokyo, the forces of reaction seemed to have turned their destructive eye toward another target and were no longer harassing John and Jo. With the Department for Constitutional Affairs off their backs, life seemed easier. They saw each other often and although there were still difficult times in therapy, she seemed to be less bothered by what he said, or so it seemed to him. His obsessive thoughts were still there, but for whatever reason, he thought he was handling them better, although he had begun thinking about being with George again. This was not helped by the fact that she called constantly, leaving sexually graphic messages on his voicemail. He almost wished that she’d get back together with the Home Secretary.

 

One afternoon he called Jo to suggest dinner but she turned him down telling him she had too much work and that she would see him on the weekend.

After a long day in court, on an impulse, he decided to drive to her flat to surprise her. _She has to eat, right?_

Just as he went to ring the doorbell, a woman emerged from Jo’s building and he went through the front door. He rang the bell on her flat. Jo opened the door.

“John!” she said in astonishment.

“Hi, I miss you, I needed to see you. Just have dinner with me. I promise I’ll get you back quickly so you can work.”

Just then there was some movement in the flat and John looked inside to see Marc Thompson getting up off the couch.

“Hello, judge,” said Marc.

John looked at Marc and then looked at Jo. “Well, don’t let me bother you, then,” he said as he turned to go.

“John, don’t go. Marc just came by to talk.”

“Is that what you call it?”

“John, please, wait.”

He was already on his way down the stairs. On the drive back to his flat he called George.

“Darling, how nice to hear from you,” she oozed. “Tired of Little Miss White Bread already?”

“Shut up, George, do you want to meet me?”

“You sound grumpy, I’m not sure if I want to or not.”

“I’ll call you back shortly.”

He called the Tottenham Hotel, near his flat. For some reason, he wanted to see George in an anonymous place. He made a reservation and called George back and told her to meet him in the hotel bar in 20 minutes. She agreed.

When he arrived, she was sitting at the bar drinking a martini.

“Glenfiddich,” he told the bartender.

She kissed him. “I’ve missed you, darling.”


	12. Chapter 12

His evening with George was intense – he was angry and hurt and he channeled those feelings into love making. The two of them took what they needed from each other.

She understood John Deed better than anyone, but still there was a part of him that was a mystery to her. In the courtroom, he was brilliant. In the bedroom, he was sublime. But after making love, he clung to her like a drowning man clinging to a life raft. Then he wasn’t the all-knowing, all-powerful judge; he was just a man who needed her. She liked the idea that he needed her, even if only for a little while. She felt like she was soothing a child who’d had a bad dream and, at the same time, reassuring a child that he had done a good job. She didn’t understand why, but she intuitively knew that this was what he needed and she was more than happy to meet that need. Did she love him? She honestly didn’t know. He was her first love and that would always make him special. Sexually, they were soulmates, but it was more than that, over and above the fact that they had been married and that he was her daughter’s father. She knew that he loved Jo, but she didn’t care. She knew that Jo could never understand him or give him what he needed the way she could.

“Something wrong? Has something happened?” said George.

“I went to see Jo. Marc Thompson was at her flat.”

“The guy she was going to marry?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, dear. I’m sorry, darling,” she whispered.

For what seemed like the millionth time after making love to her, he wondered if this was the woman he loved. Not only could she fulfill his every sexual desire, but she could soothe him like no other woman could. Did she love him? He couldn’t be sure, but lying here with her and feeling the warmth of her body on his, he thought maybe she did, even if just a little.

“George?”

“What darling?” she said sleepily.

“Do you think we could be together again?”

She sat straight up. “You must be joking. John, I know you’re hurting, but don’t let it make you say things you don’t mean. Don’t you remember what a disaster we are outside of bed?”

He laughed, “Yes, I guess I do.”

“This is what it is, nothing more. Can’t we just enjoy one another without all of that other stuff? I’m telling you, it just ruins things.”

He sighed, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

The next morning, they had sex in the shower – this time with less anger and more playfulness. On the way home, he glanced at his phone. There were several voicemails and text messages from Jo. He deleted all of them without listening to or reading them.

He was between cases, so he called Coop to tell her that he would work at home. He made coffee and settled in to read when there was a knock at the door. He opened the door to see Jo standing there.

“Don’t you ever look at your messages?” she said angrily, sweeping past him into the flat.

“Why would I bother?”

“I came by here twice last night, quite late. Where were you?”

He took a step toward her and said defiantly, “I was with George.”

She looked at him, “Yes, I see that. You’ve got a bite mark on your neck.”

He instinctively put a hand to his neck.

“George is a biter, is she? Figures. I noticed bite marks on you when we were in Brighton. So, you’ve been seeing her for a while?”

“Yeah, for a while, but we’d stopped until last night.”

“I see. Well, if you had looked at your messages last night you would know that Marc came to see me to tell me that he’s getting married and moving to Edinburgh. He wanted to let me know that anytime I wanted to see Michael, he would arrange it. _Nothing_ happened.

He sighed loudly and dropped his head, “I’m sorry, Jo.”

She stood there for a moment glaring at him and then she left.

“Shit,” he said as he closed the door.

 

Several weeks went by and she wouldn’t take his calls nor did she come to therapy. He and George were on again, in fact, he couldn’t stay away from her. One night, he called George to see if she wanted to have dinner, but she begged off. Charlie was busy, too. He was beginning to feel a certain amount of panic, not as if he were going to have another anxiety attack, but that old feeling that always made him do something he’d later regret. He decided to go to the bar at the Tottenham and have a drink and then decide where to have dinner. He sat down at the bar and ordered a single malt scotch. A few minutes later an attractive, well-dressed woman sat down next to him.

“Looking for a date?”

He looked at her for a moment before he comprehended what she was asking. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Buy me a white wine.”

The bartender brought her a glass of wine.

“So, what’s your name?” she asked.

“John.”

She laughed, “Of course it is.”

He laughed, too. “So, how does this work?”

“Do you have a room here?”

“No, but I can get one.”

“You do that and then pick up the house phone by the front desk and call the bar and give the bartender the room number. Go up to the room and I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

He got the room, made the call, and went up to the room to wait. Ten minutes later she arrived.

“So, what can I do for you tonight?” she said as she slid her arms around him.

“What are my choices?”

She recited a list of various sexual services along with pricing. She told him that she could take credit cards. He chose straight sex which she performed with great technical expertise, but no emotion, and it wasn’t really what he wanted. _What did I expect? You have to pay extra for a kiss._

The next day, he went to therapy and was surprised to see Jo. “Jo, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I said I’d do this, so here I am,” she said angrily, not looking very happy about being there.

He was still angry at her, even though he believed what she had told him, that nothing had happened between her and Marc. He didn’t know why he felt the way he did.

Dr. Briones asked him about his sexual activity for the week and before he could answer, Jo said, “It sure as hell hasn’t been with me.”

“Yeah, well, not for lack of trying,” he said angrily. He paused and then said, “I had sex with George several times and with a prostitute.”

Jo jumped to her feet, “What? How could you? Are you insane? Don’t you realize how much jeopardy you’re putting yourself in?” she shouted. “My God John, what if the tabloids or Ian Rochester and his cronies got wind of this? Your career would be destroyed. Not to mention the health risks.”

“I wore a condom.”

“Oh, that makes me feel so much better. How can you be so stupid?”

She ran out of the room, leaving him sitting there wondering why he had told her about George and the prostitute. Did he just want to hurt her back? He didn’t know, but the panic that he had felt the night before was back again.


	13. Chapter 13

He was in the Royal Courts of Justice car park, just getting ready to open his car door when, suddenly, Jo appeared between him and the car door.

“Jo, I’m …,” he said.

Her first blow was an open hand that landed on his left cheek with such velocity that it snapped his head around to the right. As he turned back to face her, her right fist landed squarely on his mouth. It made a wet sound and he took a step back and said, “Oof.” The third blow caught him between the left side of his nose and his left eye. It shoved him into the car next to his. He slid down the car and slumped to the ground, landing on his right side, not moving. As she stared at him on the ground, George came running at her between the two cars.

“Jo, what on earth have you done?” screamed George as she bent down to tend to John.

There was blood everywhere - running out of his nose and mouth at an alarming rate and down onto his shirt and jacket.

“John? John!” cried George. Jo looked on blankly.

George pulled him to a sitting position and shook him and he let out a moan. He held his right hand up to his face.

“Don’t just stand there you ninny,” George shouted at Jo. “Help me get him into my car. He needs to go to hospital.”

The two of them were able to get him on his feet and he managed to stumble the few feet to George’s car, stopping once to spit out a mouthful of blood. George was relieved to see that there were no teeth in the expectoration.

George maneuvered him into the back seat and shoved her car keys at Jo, saying, “Drive us to St. Victor’s. It’s only a couple of blocks.” George grabbed a wad of tissues and held them to John’s face in an effort to stem the bleeding. She told him to lean his head back and he did so. He passed out again and George gently shook him. “Come on, John, stay with me.” He opened his eyes and blinked at her.

Somehow, through her daze, Jo was able to navigate the two blocks to St. Victor’s A&E entrance. George leapt from the car and called to two people in scrubs who were having a smoke, “Please, we need help.” The two grabbed a trolley from inside the automatic doors of the A&E and ran toward the car. They got John onto the trolley and wheeled him inside.

Once inside, George went to the nurse’s triage station. She reported John’s name to the woman behind the computer, who asked her if she was the next of kin. George told her she was and the woman printed out a form. She put the form on a clipboard and handed it to George with a pen and asked her to only note any changes on it. George took the form, glanced at it and noticed that in the Next of Kin field, it said Jo Mills. She sat down beside Jo.

“I don’t know if there are any changes here, do you?” she asked Jo and pushed the clipboard at her. As Jo took the clipboard, George noticed that Jo’s right hand was red and swollen. “Put your hands in your pockets, quickly,” whispered George. Jo did as she was told.

George returned the clipboard to the nurse’s station and told the woman at the computer that there were no changes. She sat back down next to Jo and waited.

A little while later, the consultant came out and called out “Jo Mills?”

“Yes,” George lied. “How is he?”

“He’s taken quite a beating. Do you know what happened?”

“No, we found him on the ground in the car park at the Royal Courts of Justice.”

“Was he unconscious at any time?”

“Yes, when we found him and for a few seconds in the car on the ride here.”

By this time, Jo had gotten up from her chair and was standing beside George.

“He has a wallet full of money and credit cards and he’s wearing a very expensive watch, so it clearly wasn’t a robbery. Did they take his car?” the consultant said.

 “No.”

“OK. Since it was an assault, I will have to call the police. Odd though, he has no defensive wounds which makes me think that this was a personal attack. With a beating this severe, you’d think he would have at least put up a hand to deflect the blows, but there are no marks on his hands or arms.  We’re going to stitch up his lip and get him up to Radiology. I’ll let you know what we find out.”

He turned to go and then turned back to George and looked at Jo, “You ladies didn’t do this, did you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” snapped George. “I told you, we found him.”

“Your friend here looks a little worse for wear,” he said motioning toward Jo.

“She’s bothered by the blood, I expect,” said George nonchalantly, but she could tell that he wasn’t completely convinced.

After the consultant left, George turned to Jo and hissed at her, “You listen to me. If you ever strike him again, you’ll not only have the police down on you, but you’ll have me to deal with. Do you understand?”

Jo looked blankly at her.

“I said, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Now get out of here before I change my mind and call the police myself.”

Jo turned and headed to the exit. George sat down to wait for word on John. She remembered the consultant’s words about taking him up for tests and she began to worry. _What if he’s seriously injured?_ She told herself that they were just trying to pad the bill, knowing only too well how that worked.

After about an hour, the consultant reappeared. “Your husband’s very lucky,” said the consultant.

“Lucky?” George replied haughtily. “We are talking about the same man whose face looks like a platter of steak tartare?”

“He has no fractures, no brain damage, his eye is intact, and there was no damage to his teeth. I call that lucky. We did put fifteen stitches inside his lower lip and his eyelid is badly abraded, but there’s no permanent damage. Since he was unconscious for a short time and he vomited some blood, we’re going to keep him overnight for observation. He probably just swallowed a lot of blood, but we want to be sure.”

George was relieved. “Can I see him?”

“He’s in a great deal of pain, so make it fast so we can get him his pain meds.”

George walked into the curtained room in Trauma. John’s left eye was swollen shut and starting to turn purple. He had some cotton wadding in his nostrils and cotton between his lower teeth and lip. He looked like a boxer who had just survived a heavyweight bout.

“Poor darling,” cooed George and she bent down to kiss him gently on the forehead.

“Mimi,” he whispered.

“What? Oh, yes, your little dog. Where is she?”

“Chambers.”

“I’ll get in touch with Mrs. Cooper to see if she can take Mimi home with her. And she’ll need to continue any cases you have before you.”

“C-C-T-V,” he said slowly.

“What? Good God, John. She beat you like a rented mule and you’re trying to protect her? She could have seriously injured you. And the consultant said you didn’t even try to defend yourself.”

“Get the tape.”

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten. CCTV has been down all week due to maintenance or some such thing, so Little Miss Oxfam is safe. What’s wrong with you people? I know your relationship has had its highs and lows, John, but this must be a new low even for you two. She can’t possibly give you what you need. I don’t know why you just can’t walk away from her.”

The nurse came up behind George, “Sorry to interrupt, but we’d like to get him his pain meds now,” she said.

“Yes, of course,” said George. She leaned down to whisper in his ear, “The police will be round. I told the consultant that we found you in the car park. You’re on your own with the rest of the story.”

He nodded and squeezed her hand. “Thanks, George.”

“All right darling. I’ll be around to collect you in the morning. Try to get some rest.”

She turned to the nurse and said dismissively, “Could you please get him cleaned up when you have a chance?” pointing to the blood on his chest and neck.


	14. Chapter 14

George came to pick him up the next morning. The consultant did a final exam and pronounced him good to go. He was discharged with a prescription for pain medication and even though he was well medicated, every time he moved his head, it hurt.

“You look quite smashing with that eye patch, darling,” George said with a grin. “Maybe we can find a use for that later.”

He gave her a wan smile. They had put a patch on his eye to protect it and had removed the cotton from his nose and lip, but both were swollen. Seeing out of one eye only made him slightly nauseated.

When they arrived at his flat, George set up her command post in his living room. She announced to him that she was moving in until he was well enough to manage himself. She would conduct business and serve as his gatekeeper. He didn’t have the energy to argue with her, so he went to the bedroom and fell asleep.

Around noon, she roused him so that he could eat. She had whipped up something in the blender and had sent one of her juniors to the market to get some straws. Even drawing his mouth together a little bit to suck on the straw was painful. Later he tried to read, but with one eye it was impossible, so he took more pain medication and went back to sleep.

By the third day, he thought he was beginning to feel better, or maybe he was just adjusting to things. George allowed Coop and fellow judge Monty Everard to visit. Coop brought him some of her famous chocolate mint fudge that he loved so much and she also brought Mimi with her. Mimi jumped on the bed and immediately curled up beside him. He was glad to see her.

Monty was aghast at his condition, “Good God man, you look like someone beat you with a shovel. You have no idea who did this?”

“No, Monty. He was wearing a ski mask.”

“Bad luck that CCTV was down. They’ve put extra security on the car park.”

“I hope you’re feeling better soon, judge,” said Coop.

“Thanks, Coop. I’m sure I’ll be as good as new before you know it.”

George came in to remind them not to tire him so, after a few more minutes, they left. George’s minions were in and out all day and she made it clear to Malcolm that Mrs. Mills was not to be admitted to the building. Jo left many messages on John’s voicemail, which he ignored.

By the end of the first week, he was going stir crazy. His eye was beginning to open and he took that as a sign that he could navigate the outside world well enough. He started to go for long walks in the park near his flat with Mimi. He thought about going to the hotel, but the pain meds seemed to have suppressed his obsessive thoughts for the time being. _Maybe I just need to be stoned all the time_.

George apparently thought he was getting better and had begun sleeping in his bed. One night he awoke with George pressed against his back and her left hand exploring the front of him.

“George, as much as I would love to oblige you, I just can’t right now, I’m full of pain meds. I don’t think I could stay awake long enough.”

“It’s all right darling, I understand. It’s just that I’ve been missing you. I just wanted to visit some old familiar places.”

 

After being dismissed from hospital by George the day of the incident, Jo went home, stunned by the enormity of what she had done. She tried to call the hospital several times but hung up. The next morning, she called Dr. Briones and asked if she would see her on her own. Dr. Briones was surprised and at first resisted when Jo told her that it had something to do with John, but finally agreed when Jo told her that it was an emergency.

Jo went to Dr. Briones’ office still in shock.

“Does your visit have anything to do with John’s cancelling his appointment?”

“I suppose.”

“Odd, it was his ex-wife who called me. What’s happened?”

Jo didn’t want to say it aloud, so she just sat there for a moment, then she took a deep breath and said, “I beat John so severely yesterday that he had to be hospitalized.”

Dr. Briones was surprised. “How did it happen?”

“I don’t really know. I saw him in the car park and I was so angry. I just started swinging at him and I couldn’t stop. I don’t even know how badly he’s hurt. George came along and we took him to hospital. They were going to run some tests.”

“Which hospital?”

“St. Victor’s.”

Dr. Briones picked up her phone and called the hospital, spoke to someone briefly, hung up and then looked at Jo. “They put some stitches in his mouth and his left eyelid is badly scraped, but no permanent damage. He was discharged this morning.”

“Thank God.”

“Jo, you don’t seem like a violent person. Has anything like this ever happened before?’

“No. I never even spanked my boys. I’ve never hurt anyone in my life. I don’t know what happened.”

“Are you under a lot of stress?”

She looked at Dr. Briones. “Stress?” she said sarcastically. “Do you have any idea how difficult he is? How hard it is to love him? He’s exhausting to be with – you never know what he’s going to do.”

“I’m sure his behavior can be quite challenging at times.”

“Challenging? The Sunday Times crossword puzzle is challenging. His self-destructiveness is breathtaking. He’s selfish, thoughtless, and reckless.”

“And yet you say that you love him and you go back to him every time.”

“Sometimes, I hate him.”

Dr. Briones let her sit in silence for a moment.

Jo frowned. “I just wasn’t prepared for how sick he is, for how complicated all of this is. His symptoms are relentless and, somehow, they frighten me. I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Jo, it’s a difficult illness to deal with. People like John always hurt those closest to them. If he were schizophrenic and heard voices or bipolar and had mood swings, you’d look at him and tell yourself that he’s just sick. But with something like this, something that looks like so-called normal behavior, it’s hard to cope with. Have you ever had a stressful day and gone home and demolished a pint of ice cream?”

She smiled. “Yes, double chocolate fudge.”

“Now imagine that you’ve had that stressful day only your urge for ice cream is ten times what it normally is and you have no ice cream at home. What would you do?”

“I know where you’re going with this.”

“Humor me.”

“Um,” she thought for a minute. “I guess I’d stop at Tesco’s on the way home and buy some ice cream.”

“What if you couldn’t wait till you got home to eat it?”

“I’d eat it in the car.”

“You don’t have a spoon.”

“Do I have a Swiss Army knife with a spoon?”

“No.”

She thought for a moment. “I’d use a key.”

“When you were thinking about the ice cream on the way to the store and while you were eating it, did you think about how bad that much sugar would be for you? Or how much weight you might gain?”

“No.”

“You only thought about getting the ice cream?”

“Yes.”

“And when you finished the ice cream how did you feel?”

“Good. Comforted.”

“Did you feel good for a long time?”

“No, by the time I got home I’d feel bad for haven eaten all that ice cream.”

“And you’d promise yourself you’d never do it again?”

“Yes, probably.”

“Then, in very simple terms, you understand how an addict’s brain works. The difference between you and an addict is that you may never do that again, because the next time you feel the urge, you can rationally respond to it. Your brain will probably say, ‘Remember last time? This isn’t a good idea.’ You will have a choice, but for an addict there is no choice or rational thought, just a striving to meet the need. And that need may have to be met multiple times per day. John lacks the ability to self-comfort, like you did with that ice cream. Instead, he uses sex.”

“Yes, I hear what you’re saying. I don’t want to sound unkind, but do you understand that it’s not so much _why_ he does it, but _that_ he does it? And it doesn’t matter if it’s just once, that’s one time too many.”

“Yes, I do understand that.”

“But you’re saying that nothing’s going to change, so why are we in therapy?”

“As I’ve said, there’s help, but there’s no cure for addiction. We can teach him to manage his symptoms. I’m sorry that this isn’t of any comfort to you, but you need to understand what you’re dealing with here so that you can make a decision that works for you.”

“I don’t understand how he can do this and still manage to have a life.”

“He’s very high functioning.”

“Of course he is. Leave it to John to even be good at being sick.”

“Have you spoken to him?”

“He won’t take my calls and I’ve been barred from the building. I need to tell him how sorry I am.”

“He needs some time to sort things out and to heal.” Dr. Briones looked at Jo and said, “Jo, I don’t know much about you. Tell me about yourself.”


	15. Chapter 15

Jo told Dr. Briones about her average childhood in London. She was an only child. Her mother was a teacher and her father was a factory worker and an alcoholic. They lived an ordinary life in middle class circumstances. She met Tom at university; she read law, he read engineering. They married while still at university and after graduation they had two boys in rapid succession. Shortly after the birth of their second child, Tom was diagnosed with terminal cancer. He died two years later.

During her pupillage, while her husband was dying, her pupil-master was John Deed. They had an affair and fell in love. During their affair, she became pregnant. They felt they had no choice but to end the pregnancy.

“Did your father get treatment for his alcoholism?”

“Yes, when I was a teenager and he remained sober until the day he died.”

Dr. Briones told her that children of alcoholics have some shared characteristics. She listed them off and asked Jo if she identified with any of them.

“Yes, several.”

“Which ones?”

“Fear of emotions and intimacy. I’m always afraid to let John get too close for fear of losing control. He’s such an overwhelming person. As long as I keep him at arm’s length, I control the relationship.”

“And how has that worked out for you?”

She looked down and shook her head. “Not very well.”

“Withholding anything – sex, affection, attention – to get back at someone is not being in control. It’s just passive-aggressive behavior.”

“Why do I seem to be attracted to compulsive personalities? My former fiancé was OCD. I don’t know why I’m so attracted to this type of man.”

“Perhaps you see these negative traits as positives. Maybe you see selfish, imprudent and rebellious people as brave, independent and self-reliant.”

They went on to discuss several other traits that she found relevant to herself. Dr. Briones suggested that perhaps she should go into therapy separately from John.

“What does your future with John look like to you now?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not giving up on him. I do love him.”

“It might not be enough.”

Jo desperately wanted to change the subject, so she said, “Just what part of John’s condition do you think you can help with?”

“A lot depends on him and how committed he is to this. Of course, as we’ve discussed, his brain chemistry will always be a problem – his addiction – but he can learn to manage it much better than he does now. But it’ll take a lot of hard work on his part. It’s good that he’s sought help, though. Because there’s so much shame attached to hypersexuality, most people don’t seek help for it. His behavior is quite distressing to him and I think that’s the major cause of his generalized anxiety. But shame will definitely be something he’ll be dealing with for a long time.”

She sighed. “I haven’t helped him at all. I’ve just made things worse.”

“You’ve helped quiet a lot. He’s talked much more since you’ve been coming here. Before it was like pulling teeth, but now he seems to realize that it’s important for him to say the words and for you to listen. He’s beginning to be able to verbalize his feelings more and to open up about what he’s kept hidden for so long. That, in and of itself, is very valuable.”

 

By the end of the second week, the stitches had been removed from John’s mouth, his eye was about 85 percent open, and he was much more comfortable. He continued to take the pain medication not because he had pain, but because he liked the buzz. He wanted to go back to work, but the doctor advised another week at home. He persuaded George to move out but not without a fuss.

“George, we can’t live together.”

“Yes, I know, but it’s so delicious to wake up next to you each morning.”

He smiled, “Yes, and it would only work if we never had to get out of bed.”

“Ooh, wouldn’t that be lovely?”

He was grateful for George’s help, but he was also glad that it would just be him and Mimi from now on.

 

One day, while he was idly sitting on a park bench with Mimi, someone to his left, where his vision wasn’t back to normal yet, said, “John?”

He was startled and looked to his left to see Jo standing there.

“Jo, you startled me.”

“Sorry. Can I sit down?”

“Of course.”

She sat down at a distance from him. “John, I understand why you won’t respond to my calls, but I need to tell you how sorry I am for what I did.”

He waved his left hand dismissively at her, “No permanent damage, I’ll be good as new by next week and back to work.”

“Good. I, I don’t know what happened. I just lost it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s OK.”

“I’m seeing Dr. Briones on my own now. Apparently, I have some issues that relate to my father’s alcoholism. It’s not an excuse for what I did though.”

“Well, aren’t we the walking wounded?” he said sarcastically.

For a moment neither of them said anything, then she said, “John, can we get past this? Can we pick up where we left off before this or can we start over?”

“I don’t think so,” he said dispassionately.

“But we have so much history together.”

He thought for a minute, “Yes, we do,” he said turning to face her. “And if you look at that history, what do you see?”

She didn’t know what he was getting at.

“I’ll tell you what I see – a relationship that has never worked. A relationship that is based on mistrust, is hurtful, especially to you, and should have never been in the first place.”

“How can you say that?  We love each other.”

“Yes, and how has that worked out for us, hmm? Tell the truth, Jo, it’s not a very healthy relationship, is it?”

“We were working on it. It could work.”

“Oh, sure, we can make it work, but at what cost? Face it Jo, you’d be better off with someone else. Someone who would treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

“So, what, you’re sending me away for my own good?”

“Something like that.”

“I make decisions about my life, not you.”

He shrugged.

“I’m not giving up on us, John,” she said and walked hurriedly back the way she had come from.

He got up from the bench, put Mimi’s leash on and said, “C’mon Mimi.” They walked off in the opposite direction.


	16. Chapter 16

The following Monday, John went back to work. His eye had just a little discoloration above the lid, but otherwise, it was healed. His cases had been taken over by other judges so there was at first not much for him to do. Coop was glad to see him, as was Monty and even Joe Channing stopped by his chambers to welcome him back. He hadn’t seen Jo again, but she had called several times, and he hoped that she was working in Sussex or elsewhere.

He had stopped seeing Dr. Briones, reasoning that she had helped him very little. He looked upon the whole episode as a waste of money. He had stopped taking his medication because he didn’t think it had made things any better either.

He found his days dull and he had a difficult time focusing on the cases before him. Many times, barristers had to rouse him from staring into space in court. He stopped interrupting barristers to question witnesses and his decisions were cut and dried without any hint of passion.

He was totally adrift in his life. There were times when he didn’t know what day it was, let alone care. He no longer cared about being close to someone, he just needed sex. He found that even though there was no joy in this, he needed it increasingly and he thought about it more and more.

At night, and sometimes during the day, he had sex with prostitutes. He had convinced himself that he liked seeing prostitutes. _After all_ , he reasoned, _they were so expedient – you pay them, they did whatever you asked them to do, and that was it. No muss, no fuss. And they didn’t expect you to please them, so there wasn’t much work involved._

While waiting for the lift at the hotel one evening, he caught his reflection in the lift doors. He looked at himself with such loathing that he had to turn away. _Who are you? You’re like a dog relieving itself._

 

Weeks went by during which Jo refused any case that appeared in his court. One afternoon, during the lunch adjournment, Jo knocked on the door to John’s chambers. Coop answered quickly with a finger to her lips and came out into the hall with Jo, quietly closing the door behind her.

“He’s asleep,” Coop half whispered.

“Is he sick?”

“I don’t know, but something’s going on with him. He’s like a zombie. Has something happened?”

“I don’t know, Coop, we’re not together anymore.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Mills, I didn’t know, but it figures.”

“What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t do very well when you’re not around, does he?”

Jo looked away and shrugged.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Mills, I didn’t mean to imply that this is your fault, it’s just that I’m so worried about him. At the lunch adjournment, he either sleeps on the couch in chambers or he goes back to his flat to sleep, or he disappears. There are times I have to call him to wake him and get him back to court in time for the afternoon session. There are days I have to remind him to shave.”

 

One night after he came back from the hotel, there was a knock on his door. He opened the door to find Jo standing there.

“Jo!”

“I wanted to see how you were.”

“I’m fine.”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure,” he said, stepping aside to let her pass. “Sorry, the place is a mess.”

And it was. The kitchen sink was piled with dirty dishes, his bedroom looked like a cyclone had hit it – there were clothes everywhere – on the floor, on the chair, and on the bed. The rest of the flat was strewn with take-away containers, beer bottles and newspapers. He was a mess, too. He was wearing an old t-shirt and it looked like he hadn’t shaved for days.

She looked around and said, “John, what on earth?”

“Sorry, the maid’s on holiday,” he said and giggled.

“John, have you been drinking?”

“Yeah, a little. Can I get you something?”

“No. I came to see if we could talk about us.”

“How’s your therapy going?” he said, changing the subject.

“Well, I’ve learnt a few things about myself.”

“Good.”

“How’s yours going?”

“I quit.”

“What? Why? Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“It wasn’t helping. Quit my medication, too. I actually feel better,” he lied.

“John, what about us?”

“I told you the last time we talked that it wasn’t working.”

“John, listen …”

“No,” he shouted. “You listen to me. I told you, you need to find a man who can give you the things you need, because that’s not me. I wish to God it could be me, but it can’t be.”

“We can work this out. We can …”

“No, _we can’t_ , Jo. Wake up! I’m broken and I’m sick and I’ll continue to hurt you because that’s who I am and that’s what I do.”

“I don’t believe that, John. Yes, we would have some challenges, but …”

“You can’t tell me you’re happy. I’ve given you a million reasons to leave me, Jo, just pick one.”

“We could make it work, John.” She was beginning to sob. “Please.”

He was very angry, “It’s never worked, Jo. Can you really say that you could live the rest of your life like this? I don’t think you can. Hell, half the time, I’m not sure you even want me.”

“How can you say that? Of course, I want you. I love you.”

“Get real, Jo, I’m just an old bad habit.”  He was pacing now and words were flying out of his mouth. “Christ, don’t you have any self-respect? I hurt you and you come running right back to me. What’s wrong with you?”

He could see by the look on her face that this one had hit its mark. “I love you, John,” she said with tears streaming down her face.

“I love you too, Jo, but it’s not enough. I’m damaged goods and nothing’s going to fix this. It’s never going to get any better. This has to stop. Now, please, go.”

She ran out of the flat.

_There, it’s done._ “I’m sorry, Jo,” he whispered.

He sat on the couch and wept and then he got up and poured himself another drink. He drank until he passed out.


	17. Part Two - Grace

**Three Years Later**

When Jo arrived at Heathrow, she felt like she’d been in the air for a week rather than a little less than a day – she was bone tired. She cleared customs and took a taxi to her oldest son Tom’s house. He was getting married in less than a week. She had tea with Tom and his bride-to-be, Lisa, and then went to bed, knowing full well she’d probably not sleep much.

She lay in bed and wondered what the upcoming week would bring. Fortunately, the kids had taken care of the wedding details and she only had to show up. She thought about John. She was glad that she was back in the same country with him, it made him feel closer. She wondered how he was getting on and she hoped that she’d find him well, but she had a growing sense of unease. She realized that he had been very depressed the last time she’d seen him. She hoped he had gotten some help.

She was devastated the day he threw her out of his flat. She went to Michelle’s and cried and drank until she could do no more of either. The next morning, she called her friend Linda in Melbourne. Linda was an old school friend who was a barrister and whose children, like Jo’s, were out of the house. Linda had often tried to talk Jo into relocating to Melbourne and coming to work for her at her law offices.

After talking to Linda for an hour, Jo knew what she had to do. Her children had lives of their own and didn’t need her anymore and she and John were over. She didn’t want to see him in court or at judicial functions – she didn’t think she could bear it. She took a month’s leave from her job during which time she sold her flat and most of the things in it and then she quit her job.

She moved to Melbourne and went to work for Linda. She stayed with Linda for several months until she learned her way around and was lucky enough to find a furnished flat for rent a block from the beach. It was small, but it was sunny and bright. She studied Australian law and was admitted to the bar.

After the necessities were taken care of, Jo went to see a therapist because she wanted some guidance in her new life. Finally, therapy was focused on her and not on John. She learned some hard truths about herself and could see her mistakes clearly. She was determined not to repeat them.

She and Linda had fun together – they went to the beach, to restaurants and shopped. She started dating again and that was fun, too. Her sons and their girlfriends visited for holidays and she was happy to show off her new lifestyle. Her sons commented on how much less uptight she was and how much more fun she was.

But through it all, John was never very far from her mind. She told her therapist that she still felt a strong connection to him even though he had made it clear that it was over. Her therapist told her that it sounded like she had unfinished business with him that she needed to resolve.

She dated a lot of men as if to make up for what she had missed by being with him for so long. But it soon fell into a pattern – she would be enchanted by a man, date him for a couple of months, and then lose interest. After a while, she realized that she was always comparing them to John and they just never seemed to measure up. There were nights when she longed for him and then reproached herself for her feelings the next day. She realized that he’d been right about a few things – she did constantly push him away. She was afraid of intimacy, afraid that she wouldn’t be in control. The fact remained that even though she knew herself so much better and saw clearly the pitfalls of being with him, she still wanted him. _Maybe he’s my cross to bear._

Now, three years after he threw her out, she was back in London, ostensibly for Tom’s wedding, but also because it was time to come home. Her time in Australia had been valuable – both personally and professionally – but she actually missed the gloom of London. It was always so sunny in Australia and there were days when it got on her nerves.


	18. Chapter 18

She’d gotten very little sleep, but she got up early anyway. She rented a car and drove to Lewes, Sussex to Highfield Crown Court. She wanted to see John.

Once at Highfield Court, she called Rita Cooper from the lobby. Coop came to the lobby and greeted her warmly.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Mrs. Mills.”

“Thanks, Coop. I’m here for my eldest son’s wedding.”

“Oh, how lovely.”

“Any chance I could see John? Is he sitting down here?”

Coop hesitated and then said, “He’s not here anymore.”

“Oh, he’s sitting somewhere else?”

“No, he’s not a judge anymore.”

Jo was stunned. _Had Ian Rochester finally been able to have John removed from the bench?_

“Where is he?”

“It’s not for me to say, Mrs. Mills. You should talk to Charlie.”

Coop told her that Charlie still worked in the chambers she and Jo had shared at 5 Wells Court, so Jo drove back to London. She went to the reception desk and asked for Charlie Deed. The receptionist told her that Charlie was now Charlie Darrow and asked her to wait. Charlie had married solicitor Jonathon Darrow two years earlier.

Shortly, Charlie came down the hall, “Jo, what a great surprise. What are you doing here?”

Jo looked at Charlie with surprise, “I’m here for Tom’s wedding, but what’s this? You’re pregnant?”

“Yes, we’re expecting our first child soon.”

“So, I see.”

Jo and Charlie had tea in Charlie’s chambers, talked about old times and Charlie caught her up on all the gossip.

“Charlie, I stopped by Highfield Court and Coop told me that your dad’s no longer a judge. What’s going on?”

“Um, well, dad’s doing something else.”

“Is he ok?”

“Yes, he’s doing really well.” Charlie’s face lit up.

“Do you think I could see him? Things ended badly between us and I don’t feel right about it.”

“I’d have to call him and ask him first. We’re all trying hard to respect his privacy and they have a lot of rules where he lives.”

Jo laughed, “He’s not in prison, is he?”

Charlie laughed, too. “No, nothing like that.”

“Can you at least tell me what he’s doing?”

“Best let dad tell you that himself.”

Charlie took Jo’s cell number and promised to call her after she talked to her dad. Later that evening, while Jo was having dinner out with Tom and Lisa, Charlie called.

“Jo, dad said he would see you.”

Jo’s heart sang. “Wonderful Charlie. Where is he?”

“He’s in Herefordshire, just outside of Hereford. Number 14 Ruckhall Lane. Do you have GPS in your car?”

“Yes, I’ll find it. Is it ok to go tomorrow?”

“No, he said the day after tomorrow would be better because of his work schedule.”

When she got back to Tom’s, she worked out that it would take her about three hours to get to the address Charlie had given her. Charlie had told her to pack a bag and to stay at the inn in the nearby town because the roads were not good and she didn’t want to be on them at night especially not at this time of year with all the agricultural activity going on there.

The next morning, Jo met with her old head of chambers to discuss getting her job back. He was delighted to see her and even more delighted that she wanted to come back to work because they had lost several barristers recently. She accepted the position on the spot and agreed to start in a month, since she had to go back to Australia to settle things there.

She spent the rest of the day thinking about seeing John again. _What will I say? Will he be glad to see me? If he agreed to see me, surely he isn’t still cross with me. What kind of shape would he be in?_ She worried herself into quite a state and spent another restless night.

The next morning after breakfast she set out for Herefordshire. _What was he doing there? Was he a barrister again? Why was everyone so tight lipped about it?_ About half way there, the thought crossed her mind that he might be in some kind of hospital. _Oh God, could I bear to see him that way?_ _No, stop this. Charlie seemed happy when she talked about her dad and she said he was doing well._ She tried to calm herself.

 

John got up in the dark and dressed in jogging bottoms, a t-shirt, a hoodie, and trainers. He strapped his headlight to his head and set off down the dark country road for a run. They had recently repaved the roads and had added a wide shoulder that made his daily run much safer, even though there were few people out at this time of morning. Warm days and cool nights had left mist in the air.

He had started running as soon as he had arrived here. At first, he used it to punish himself. He saw every difficult or painful thing he did as an act of penance or contrition. He pushed himself during those times to make sure he exacted as much punishment as possible. But now his run was just part of his morning routine, some quiet time before his busy day started. Rain or shine, he was out for a two-mile run early every morning. He ran a loop that passed farm fields and orchards. Usually, he was good at pacing himself, but this morning he had difficulty doing that. He was excited at the prospect of seeing Jo again. He had so much to tell her. _Will she be cross with me? Had she changed? Does she still love me? Was she married?_ _Could this be a new beginning for us?_ He paused. _Stop thinking about yourself, this is about her – the chance to apologize, a chance you weren't sure you'd ever get. A chance to tell her that you're not that man anymore, that you will never be that man again._

He completed his loop, let himself in through the gate in the side wall and walked up the sidewalk to the kitchen door. He walked through the commercial kitchen, where a few people were preparing for the day’s work, and into the smaller kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee and bounded up the back stairs to his room. He sat on his bed and drank his coffee. He was surprised at how nervous he was. He sat on the edge of his bed and took some deep breaths to try to calm his racing mind.

When he finished his coffee he headed off down the hall to the shower room. He dressed and went downstairs to the barbershop.

“Be right with you John, just finishing up here,” said the barber.

“Thanks.”

The man in the chair said, “You finally getting your hair cut? Got a hot date?”

“Yeah, you might say that,” said John.

All three men laughed. When the other man was finished, John said, “Just clean things up, will you Bill?”

“A little trim?”

“Yes, hair and beard.”


	19. Chapter 19

Jo followed the instructions on the GPS, turning off the motorway on to a rural road for several miles and then turning on to Ruckhall Lane. She saw what Charlie meant about the roads – they wound around farm fields and over short hills providing very little visibility. More than once she had to stop to allow farm machinery to pass.

She came to an imposing brick wall with an open gate and the GPS announced that she had arrived at her destination. She stopped the car in puzzlement because the plaque on the wall said Belmont Benedictine Abbey, Est. 1859.

“This has to be wrong,” she said aloud. She sat there for a moment and then decided to continue up the driveway and ask for help. She followed the signs around to the side of the building and parked. The buildings were large and Gothic. She went to the front door of the building closest to the car park and walked into a large hall where she saw a young monk at a reception desk.

“May I help you?” he said.

“I don’t know. I was given this address, but it can’t be right. I’m looking for an old friend.”

“What’s your friend’s name?”

“John Deed.”

“Oh, yes, he’s here. Just a moment, please.”

The monk typed into the computer and then picked up the phone.

John’s cell phone rang. It was the front desk. The voice on the other end told him that he had a visitor. He said he’d be right there. _She’s here!_

 

_What in the world was he doing here?_ Jo thought _. Pro bono work?_

She was directed to some chairs where she sat and looked at her cell phone. It had been buzzing in the car but she didn’t want to look at it while she was driving. Linda had been texting her to find out how things were going. She heard a noise in the long corridor to her left and looked up to see a bearded priest coming down the hall. She went back to her texting.

Suddenly, she was aware that someone was standing over her.

“Jo!” said the bearded priest.

She looked up and then said in astonishment, “John?”  She sat there with her mouth open. Finally, she stood up and they embraced.

He hugged her hard and said, “It’s so good to see you.”

She pulled out of his embrace and said, “You’re a priest?”

“Sort of.”

“I didn’t even know you were Catholic.”

“I was raised Catholic. After my mother died, my dad took Alice and me out of Catholic school. We never went to church again.”

Jo was dumbfounded.

He smiled at her and said uncomfortably. “I know. Weird, isn’t it? Let’s go for a walk in the garden so we can have some privacy.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and guided her down the corridor to the door to the garden. They walked into a quadrangle of trees and formal gardens. It was early spring, but a few of the trees were beginning to bear buds and there was evidence of new growth in the flower beds. He walked her over to a bench and they sat down.

She was still too stunned to talk.

“How’ve you been?” he asked. “I heard you moved to Australia.”

“Yes.”

“Practicing law?”

“Yes.”

“Married?”

“No.”

“In a relationship?”

“No.”

“Are you going to say more to me than one syllable words?” he smiled.

“Yes,” she laughed. _Oh, there’s that beautiful smile._

“Well?”

“I’m sorry. I just can’t get over all of this.” She gestured toward him. “So, you’re really a priest?”

“Technically, I’m what’s called a temporary deacon. I can do some of the things a priest can do, but not all.”

“Temporary?”

“I don’t plan to become a priest.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” she laughed.

He grinned, “Yeah, it’s not as bad as it looks. My deaconship is up next week when I’ll return to the outside world.”

He looked at his watch, “Jo, I had planned to ask you to lunch, but turns out I have to work. Another deacon who’s sick asked me to take his shift. I don’t suppose you could hang around for dinner? There’s a little inn down the road where they have unbelievably good food.”

“Charlie suggested that I stay there tonight, so yes, I’ll have dinner with you.”

He smiled, “You’re so beautiful.”

She laughed, “I’ll bet it’s been a long time since you said that to a woman.”

He couldn’t stop smiling, “It has been.”

“But what about, I mean, are you celibate?”

“That’s a long story, but, yes, I’ve been celibate for quite a while. It’s part of the deal. I’ll tell you all about it tonight.”


	20. Chapter 20

She drove back to the inn, checked in and went to her room to lie down. Of all the things she imagined he could be, a priest was not one of them. _Now I love a man who’s a priest? Talk about going from bad to worse!_ She tried to work out in her head how he could have possibly come to this and she couldn’t even make a decent guess. She felt that strong physical attraction to him that she always had, but there was something else about him that she couldn’t put her finger on. He was familiar, but at the same time different and it wasn’t just his appearance. There was a reticence about him, almost shyness, that she had never seen before.

 

He arrived at the inn just before 7 p.m. to find her seated at a table at the back window. The inn was ancient but had been recently remodeled. They’d kept its original charm, but updated it to make it more functional. It was frequented by the families of those who lived at the abbey for special occasions, such as Christmas and Easter masses, and by locals who appreciated good food.

He couldn’t get over how beautiful she was. She was sipping a glass of white wine and looking out the window to the garden. He sat down across from her, “Hi, you look lost in thought.”

“I am. I feel like I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole where everything is backwards.”

He laughed, “Yes, I imagine you do.” He ordered a glass of red wine.

“So, priests don’t have casual clothes?”

“No, wherever I go, the collar goes with me.”

She laughed, “I’ve never had dinner with a priest before.”

“I don’t think it’s any different than eating with any other man, except that I’ll say a blessing before dinner, if that doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Tell me about your life in Australia.”

“It’s an ordinary life like it was here, just on another continent. But I’m more interested in your life. Tell me how you got here.”

The waiter brought his drink. “I hardly know where to begin.”

“Start the day you threw me out of your flat. You were depressed, weren’t you?”

“Yes, extremely.”

“They told me to watch for it but I didn’t recognize it. I guess I was too wrapped up in my own feelings. Do you think it was the result of the, um, what I did to you?” She swallowed hard.

“No, it’s hard to pinpoint when it started, but I think it was inevitable for me, just part of the illness. I didn’t recognize it as depression at the time but I remember one day I went out to get some air and I found myself walking along the river staring at the water. I watched how the river flowed so smoothly and effortlessly and I thought about how good it might feel to just float away from everything. I couldn’t get that thought of floating away out of my head. After that, it was just a downward spiral. I was so exhausted that I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I went off my meds and stopped going to therapy. I was drinking heavily. I was just totally out of control. And then when I realized that I was the one who had pushed you over that line to violence I couldn’t cope with it.”

“I’ve always wondered why you didn’t stop me from beating you.”

He took a deep breath, “Because at the time I thought I deserved it for the way I’d treated you. I felt like I needed to be punished.”

She sighed and shook her head.

“I came to see that no matter what I did, I could never make you happy. I couldn’t see a future for myself or for you and me. No matter what was going on with us, I always saw a future with you, but the only future I could see was me fighting my addiction and losing. I felt like I added no value to anyone’s life, that you’d all be better off without me.” He paused and smiled a small smile, “Sounds silly now, but I thought I could finally save you from me, give you a chance at a normal life, a chance to be happy. I finally realized that what I truly wanted was for you to be happy. And in my mind,” he stopped and looked out the window and said quietly. “I though the best way to do that was to kill myself.”

“What? Oh my God, John, I had no idea it was that bad. I should have seen it, though. You were in such rough shape the last time I saw you. How could you expect that I’d be happy with you dead?” She put her face in her hands.

“Well, looking back at it now, it makes no sense, but at the time, it was so clear to me that it was what I needed to do. I couldn’t or wouldn’t fight my obsessive thoughts anymore, so I let them take over my life completely. You get so caught up in addiction, it’s so pervasive, so insidious, that you don’t know where it ends and you begin. I needed to get you out of my life so you wouldn’t have to clean up my last mess.”

“It breaks my heart to think how alone you were making that terrible decision.”

“Things just got so confusing toward the end. I’d been depressed before, nothing that bad, though. I couldn’t sleep and I was having manic episodes, it was like life had sped up and no matter what I did I couldn’t keep up anymore. And I just wanted to let go of all of it.”

“Manic episodes? Are you bi-polar?”

“No, it happens sometimes with anxiety.”

He looked off into space. They both sat in silence for a moment, thinking about what could have happened. “After you left my flat, I drank until I passed out. When I woke up, I tried to figure out how I would take my life. While I was lying on the couch thinking about it, I realized that this must have been how my mother felt – helpless, alone and without any hope. In that moment I understood why she took her life. In the next instance, I realized that I couldn’t do that to Charlie. I couldn’t do to her what my mother had done to me. My mother never got to see me grow up or meet her grandchild. I wanted to see Charlie become a successful barrister and I wanted to know my grandchildren.”

“That’s right,” Jo interrupted, “You’re going to be a grandfather soon.”

“Yes, not too long now. Edward John Darrow.”

“Named after your dad and you?”

“Yes,” he smiled broadly. “I can’t wait to meet my grandson.”

The waiter came to tell them about the specials and to see if they had any questions about the menu. She ordered a mushroom risotto. He ordered pasta with pesto and grilled halloumi. They each had another glass of wine.

Before he ate, he bowed his head in silence for a few seconds and then crossed himself. “That was the restaurant version,” he said smiling. After a few bites of food, he continued, “I didn’t know what to do, but I knew that I had to do whatever I could to stop it.” He took a few more bites and said, “I did something I hadn’t done since I was a little boy.”

“What was that?”

“I know it sounds strange, but I prayed. I asked God to show me what to do.”

“What happened?”

“A little later, I realized that I needed to call Dr. Briones, that she would know what to do.”

“God told you that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe praying just gave me clarity.”

 

Later, after they had finished dinner, she reached across the table to take his hand, only realizing now how shaken she was by his story of thoughts of suicide. But he pulled his hand away. “Sorry Jo, there are at least five people in this restaurant who know me. There will be gossip enough because I’m having dinner with a beautiful woman. Until I’m not a deacon, I have to honor my vows. I don’t want to risk spoiling anything for the men who come behind me.”


	21. Chapter 21

“Sorry,” she said pulling her hands back. “What do you mean spoiling it for the men who come behind you?”

He laughed, “This story goes on forever and I want to tell you all about it, but I’ve got to get back to the abbey for work.”

“What kind of work do you do?”

“I have a lot of jobs, but tonight I have to lead Compline – the last prayer service of the day. We have required prayer seven times per day, it’s called the Liturgy of the Hours or Divine Office, and at each service, one of the monks or deacons is in charge. Most of the year, I also work in the orchards or in the garden or on the farm. Some of the food that’s prepared in this restaurant is from our farm.”

“So, you pray a lot?”

“Yes, it’s really our main job.”

“And you skived off to have dinner with me?”

“Not exactly, I talked to the Abbot and he excused me from a few shifts. I’m a short timer now, so the rules can be relaxed a little.”

“John, I need to tell you something before you go. I got my old job back.”

“You’re moving back to London?”

“Yes. I still have to go back to Australia to pack up, but I’m coming home.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long, long time,” he said with a big smile. He looked at his watch, “Gotta go. Can we have breakfast?”

“As long as it’s early. I have to get back to London.”

“How about 7?”

“That works.”

“It was so good to see you, Jo.”

They stood up and hugged rather formally, “You, too, John.”

 

The next morning, he cut his run short in order to have time to shower and get back to the inn on time. He was exhilarated. He couldn’t help but think that maybe they were being given another chance. At the same time, he was disappointed in himself that he hadn’t apologized to her, but he considered it such a private act of contrition that he didn’t want to be overheard. _The right time will present itself_ , he told himself. _Oh, my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended thee …_ the words to the familiar prayer were often in his head. When he said them, he was not only apologizing to God, but also to Jo.

He arrived at the inn just as the front door was being unlocked. “Hi, Jen,” he said to the woman unlocking the door.

“Morning, Father. Your friend’s waiting for you in the dining room,” she said, stopping just short of rolling her eyes.

“Thank you.”

Jo was seated by the fireplace. It was a damp, foggy morning and there was a chill in the air.

“Brrrr,” he said, hugging himself.

“It’s really chilly. I’m not used to this.”

“Sure you want to leave all that sunshine?”

“Oh yes, it’s time to come home.”

They ordered breakfast and she was anxious to hear the rest of his story.

“I called Dr. Briones that night and she took me to a private psychiatric facility. I was admitted and put on suicide watch. The next day Dr. Briones and I talked for a long time and then she offered me the way out.”

“What was the way out?”

“A drug called CPA.”

“Anti-anxiety med?”

“No, it has a very ugly common name – chemical castration.”

“Oh, my God, John. Seems extreme. I can’t see you agreeing to something like that.”

“It sounds a lot worse than it is. It’s a drug that inhibits the production of testosterone. It takes away the libido and makes it impossible to get an erection. It stopped my obsessive thoughts in about a week. I had to do something extreme, Jo. When she offered me that, I didn’t even think twice about it before agreeing to it. It gave Dr. Briones and I a chance to work on my other problems without the complication of my obsessive thoughts. I can’t tell you what a relief it was to be free of those thoughts. Without all of that rubbish in my head, I could think clearly. I felt like I could take a deep breath for the first time in my life. I could sleep.”

“Are you still taking it?”

“No, I stopped taking it about two months ago. Shortly after I started taking it, Dr. Briones told me about a jointly administered clinical trial between Oxford and the Catholic Church. Oxford wanted to test a drug that might correct my screwed-up brain chemistry and the church was looking for help since there’s a shortage of priests. It felt like I had nothing to lose, so I agreed. I went to a very abbreviated version of seminary, was ordained and then they sent me here.”

“You were ordained like a regular priest?”

“Yes, slightly different than a regular ordination, but in a big ceremony in a cathedral with 14 other men like me. Charlie and Jonathon came, along with Coop, Monty and Vera, Alice, Joe Channing, even George came. Of course, she tried to seduce me and talk me out of it. She couldn’t believe that I was impervious to her charms.” They both laughed.

“So, all of those people know about, well, everything?”

“Yes, part of the making amends process is to tell people about your addiction. None of them realized that I was sick, of course, but when they did, they all rallied around me. Everyone’s been very supportive. Charlie and Jonathan visit and bring Mimi and Coop. Monty drives out about once a month to have dinner with me. It’s been humbling to realize that so many people care about me.”

“Must have been hard telling some of them.”

“Yes, the reactions were all over the map and I wasn’t prepared for any of them. I thought that when people found out that I was sick, they’d almost be relieved, but I think that was just my ego looking for an excuse. When you’re in the grip of an addiction, you never think about anyone else but yourself. You never think about how much impact you have on other people’s lives. It never occurred to me that just explaining to someone what my addiction was could have such an effect on them. I’d finally come to terms with it and now I had to ask others to do the same. It’s hard on people. Charlie knew about the anxiety but not about my addiction. She had quite a difficult time with it. She told me I was gross and disgusting and I couldn’t disagree with her. She wouldn’t speak to me for a couple of weeks.”

“That must have hurt.”

“It did, but she had a right to her feelings and as hard as that was, I had to accept it. She eventually came around, though. Coop cried and that really threw me. I didn’t hear from her for a long time and then one day she called to tell me how sorry she was, but that she just didn’t know what to say.” He smiled, “She said if there was ever anything I needed, I had only to ask.”

“She’s always been very protective of you.”

“Joe Channing thought I was being funny and he actually laughed until he looked at Monty who was not laughing. Joe was mortified. My sister said she was always afraid that something had gone wrong with me because of the way mum’s death changed me.”

There was an awkward silence; neither knew what else to say.

“So, this castration drug you took, you said you stopped taking it?” Jo asked.

“Yes, and the clinical trial is also over and my deaconship is up soon. But the best news is that it worked.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m not sure about the science, something about dopamine receptors, but somehow the drug fixed my brain chemistry. I’m no longer addicted.”

“Oh, John,” she reached out to touch him again, but withdrew her hand as tears came to her eyes. “You’ve struggled with this all your life. I’m so happy for you.”

He extended his hand to wipe away her tears, but pulled it back. “I still have some issues.”

“What kind of issues?”

“I still have some anxiety, but it’s nothing compared to what it was. I take medication for it and for depression, but I understand how to manage those things now and I’m aware of how they affect me.”

 “How do you manage your anxiety?”

“Well, now I’m able to see my thoughts for what they are – just thoughts. Like clouds that come and go.  I’ve learned that my thoughts don’t always tell me the truth, so I need to look at them rationally. I’ve learned not to get so wrapped up in my emotions. I’ve learned to recognize my triggers. There’s a technique in addiction management that’s called HALTS. It’s an acronym for common triggers and reminds us to never get too hungry, too angry, too lonely, too tired or too stressed. Before, when I was faced with one of those stressors, I automatically went for sex. Now, if I’m tired, I rest. If I’m lonely, I reach out to someone. Prayer helps a lot and I think the exercise I got working on the farm helped, too. I also have breathing exercises and yoga.”

“Yoga? You?”

He nodded.

“Apparently, when my mother died, I didn’t feel safe so I went into fight or flight mode. I remember waking up the next day and wondering when dad would leave and then what would Alice and I do? We had no family. That fear has followed me my whole life. I didn’t realize it, but a big part of my problem was that I was scared all the time – scared that people would leave me again and then scared that people would find out about my addiction.”

“Do you feel safe now?”

“Yes, I feel safe at the abbey. I have someone I can call, sort of like a sponsor. Before, I had to be so careful not to let anyone know about my addiction. It helps so much to have everything out in the open now.”

“That was a terrible secret to carry alone for so long.”

“Yes, it was. It kept me isolated from other people. He hesitated, “There’s something else.”

“What?”

“I’m still at high risk for suicide.”

She winced.

“But I haven’t had a suicidal thought since that night and more than anything I want to live. But the possibility’s always going to be there.” _There_ , _if that doesn’t scare you away, nothing else will._

 

They finished breakfast and he said, “Jo, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. I’m in London for my final meeting with the Bishop next Monday. Can we get together?”

“Yes, I’d like that.”

“Great, OK see you then.” He got up to go but sat back down and looked into her eyes. “Jo, I’ve never stopped loving you. You’re my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night. I’ve realized that no matter what’s happening in my life, everything comes back to you. I can be the man you need me to be, now. I know I can.”

She looked at him with surprise.

“I know I messed this up a long time ago and I know it must seem like a terrible risk to get involved with me again, but I’m so much better. I have no way to prove it to you – I guess you could talk to my therapists. I have a great support system and I’m really doing well. I’ve learned so much about myself. I’m not perfect, but I feel like I can cope with things in a much better way.” He was rambling now, and he knew it. _Shut up, shut up._

She looked at him as though she was going to say something and then didn’t.

 “Don’t answer me now, but think about it, will you?” he said, almost begging.

“Yes, I’ll think about it.”


	22. Chapter 22

All week he could think of nothing but her. His emotions were a rollercoaster ranging from elation to despair and everything in between. One night after Compline, he went to his room and prayed for hours. He wanted to ask God to guide Jo’s decision in his favor, but he knew that was wrong. When he finally arose from the prie dieu, his back and knees aching, he knew he wouldn’t sleep, so he went downstairs to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Apparently, several of his brothers were also finding sleep elusive.

He sat down at the kitchen table next to Father Bernard. Bernard was John’s mentor and one of his therapists. He was a big bear of a man whose sometimes gruff manner belied his kind heart and his fondness for terrible puns. Over the years, the two had become friends.

When John first went into therapy at the abbey, Bernard told him that sorting through the muck and pain of his life would help him discover his authentic self. It sounded like a lot of rubbish to John, but as he worked honestly at therapy, little by little he came to know who he was and, to his relief, he found that there wasn’t a monster inside him, just a confused man whose emotions were a jumble. He was surprised to find out how few coping skills he had, having always dealt with stress either in fight or flight mode or with sex. Bernard helped him realize that he could reach a middle ground where he could make decisions about his life the same way he’d made decisions in court – with reason and conciliation.

“Long night of the soul, John?” asked Bernard.

“In a way.”

“Rumor has it you had dinner at the inn with a beautiful woman. Does it have something to do with her?”

John smiled, “Yeah, Jo’s here.”

“Really? Well, it’s got the Altar Society ladies all atwitter.”

“You can’t get away with much here, can you?”

“No, not much. Someone’s always watching, even if it’s just God.”

“I asked her to take me back. Is it wrong to ask God to send her back to me?”

“Is this about you or her?”

“It’s about her but …”

“Have you apologized to her yet?”

“No.”

“Why not? What’s stopping you?”

“We’re always in public. I want to do it in private.”

 

“John, all you’ve talked about for the last few years is how important it is to you to apologize to her. And now you’ve got the opportunity and what do you do? You’ve put the cart before the horse, don’t you think?”

“I know.”

“John, be honest with yourself and with God. Do you remember you told me when you wanted to kill yourself that you felt like your death would be a gift to her?”

“Yes.”

“Well, as you know, that was misguided, but here’s an opportunity to actually do that. Ask God to help Jo make the best decision for herself, not for you.”

John nodded.

“What’s this really about, John? That big ego of yours still in the way?”

“No, at least I don’t think so.”

“Then what is it?”

“I just feel that anything I say to her isn’t going to be enough.”

“It will be enough. John, when you first came here I thought you’d never make it. You had such a big ego and we practically had to beat humility into you, but it finally took. I also knew that your previous attempts at therapy had been half-hearted.”

“Yes, I was still fighting therapy when I got here.”

“But I was wrong about you, John. You’ve done everything we’ve asked of you and more – give yourself some credit for that. Maybe you’re scared about being back out there or about her rejecting you and that’s perfectly normal.”

John looked away from Bernard and then at the floor. “I am apprehensive. I almost feel like a stranger in a strange land. I mean, I lived most of my life out there, but now everything out there seems so loud and bright and fast. Here, everything’s quiet and muted and slow.”

“That’s a pretty normal reaction, John. Your senses were dulled by your singular pursuit of sex. You never noticed much else.”

“I’ve just finally figured out how to manage my own emotions and now I have to figure out how to deal with hers.”

“I know it seems daunting, but you’re ready, John. I know it.”

“I’ve been given so many chances. I want to make sure I do it right this time.”

“Trust yourself, John. The most important thing now is that Jo needs to hear your apology and you need to say it.”

John nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“You have to be prepared to deal with a bad outcome. She could be very angry, you know. Are you prepared for that?”

“I think so. She’s been angry before. She has a right to be.”

“Always ready to take a beating, aren’t you John? How easily you slip back into that man who doesn’t value himself. Your propensity for self-punishment amazes me. Too bad we don’t still practice the wearing of hair shirts or self-flagellation, then you could really punish yourself.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny.”

Bernard sighed loudly. “You have this aura of shame about you and you won’t let go of it because you think it will protect you from whatever perceived threats there are out there. We’ve talked about this a million times and you’ve confessed it at least that many times. Let go of it – don’t let it pull you back into the past. Dwelling on it is really just an indulgence.”

John nodded in agreement again. He could always count on Bernard to be brutally honest with him, even if it wasn’t always what he wanted to hear.

“If you’re unwilling to let go of that shame, then you’ll never truly know who you are and that would be such a waste.” Bernard paused, softening a bit. “So, do you think she’ll take you back? Did she give you any indication about what she was thinking?”

“She seemed glad to see me, but when I asked for another chance, she froze. All I could do was babble like an idiot.”

“Some women might find that charming.”

John looked at Bernard dubiously. “And you know this how? Because of your extensive experience with women?”

“I wasn’t always a priest, you know. I remember, however vaguely, what it feels like to be in love with a woman.”

John had heard rumors that Bernard had come to the priesthood later in life, leaving a very successful psychiatric practice. John had broached the subject once, but Bernard had been vague. John didn’t press it because, after all, his journey here hadn’t been a straight line either and he respected Bernard’s privacy.

“There’s something about Jo, she’s changed and I don’t know how to read her anymore. She’s more self-confident and, well, strong.”

“Did you think she’d just fall back into your arms? You’re not pressuring her, are you?”

“No, of course not.”

“And you’ve told her everything?”

“Yes.” John shrugged. “It’s just, I know she still loves me. I can feel it, I can see it in her eyes.”

“John you deserve to be happy and so does she, but you have to understand that her happiness might not lie with you. You’ve built a good life for yourself, one’s that sustainable on the outside. Do you remember that we talked about the real source of happiness being inside ourselves and not predicated on another person? You have to look at it like that. Regardless of what Jo decides, you still have a life to live and it will be a good life.”

Bernard let what he had said sink in and then he said quietly, “What’ll you do if she doesn’t take you back?”

John grimaced at the thought. “You’re not making me feel any better.”

“Not my job.”

“The abbot has offered me a job running the program.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that. You’d be brilliant at it. But that would be a very long commute from London.”

“I wouldn’t commute, I’d stay here.”

Bernard looked at him with consternation. “What exactly would _that_ life look like?”

“Pretty much like it does now – I’d continue with therapy, work on the farm and run the program.”

“Why would you want to live in a community of celibate men?”

“It’s a lay position. I wouldn’t be celibate, at least not intentionally.”

“I see. And so, your new chat-up line would be ‘Want to come back to the abbey to see my illuminated manuscripts?’”

“No, of course not.”

“The logistics notwithstanding, it’s a terrible idea, John.”

“Why?”

“Because the whole idea of all the work you’ve done with your therapists is to get you ready to go back to the real world, not stay here where it’s safe.”

“I thought you wanted me to feel safe.”

“I do, but out there. It’s easy to feel safe in here. You’re a man of the world, John, not a cloistered monk. You can’t have a normal man’s life living in an abbey. The last time I looked, you didn’t have a calling. Has that changed?”

“No.”

John got up from the table and put his coffee cup in the dishwasher.

“Humble yourself before God and let Him do the rest. Ask Him to help Jo decide what’s best for her. If it’s right for her, she’ll come to you. Do you know the prayer of St. Ephrem?” asked Bernard.

“No, never heard of it.”

“It’s used in the Eastern church at Lent, but we can use it, too. After all, we all pray to the same God. Look it up. It’s a lot of work, complete with prostrations, but I think it might help you.”

“Ok, I’ll check it out. I’m grateful for your help, Bernard.”

“Ah, yes, the grateful Deed.”

John groaned, “How long have you been waiting to use that one?”

“Quite a while, actually,” Bernard said with a twinkle in his eye.

“Not even God will forgive you for that one.”

 

John headed to the library, looked up the short prayer and made a copy of it. He sat in the chapel and read it over and over until he had it memorized. He stood before the altar, crossed himself and then lay face down on the floor. The stone floor felt cool against his cheek as though he had a fever. He lay there for a few minutes asking for God’s forgiveness for his sins and then he arose to recite the prayer:

_“O Lord and Master of my life, grant me not a spirit of sloth, despondency, love of power, and idle talk,_

_But give to me, your servant, a spirit of sober-mindedness, humility, patience, and love._

_Yes, O Lord and King, grant me to see my own faults and not to judge my brother, since you are blessed to the ages of ages. Amen.”_

He did full prostrations after each verse. Then he recited:

_“O God, cleanse me a sinner.”_

He recited the short verse twelve times, bowing after each recitation. Then he repeated the whole prayer again with a prostration at the end. He stayed on the floor. He asked God to help Jo reach a decision that was the best one for her, but in the back of his mind, he hoped that God had one more miracle left in his pocket for him.

 

Jo was both shocked and excited by what he had said. She had fantasized so many times about telling him that she loved him and falling into his arms as though she were in a romance novel, but reality always brought her back to her senses. _He’s not good for you._ But he was a different man now with no chance of reverting to the man he had been. _He still has problems, but who doesn’t?_

Still she was torn. Whereas before he had been confident and self-assured, which she found exciting and attractive, now he seemed hesitant and tentative, not sure of himself. She had no doubt that she loved him, but it hadn’t been enough before. But was she in love with the judge or with John, the man she always said she loved? Could she love this quiet man, this man who loved God? She slept fitfully and awoke the next morning no closer to a decision than she had been the night before.


	23. Chapter 23

The following Monday Jo and John met for an early lunch in the dining room at a hotel near his flat. They embraced, fully this time, and he kissed her on the mouth briefly. He was dressed in a polo shirt, jacket, and jeans.

“You’re out of uniform,” she said.

“Yes, I’m officially a civilian, I’ve turned in my collar and keys.”

“And you got a haircut.”

“Yes, I thought I’d go back to my old, shorter style. When you live with only men, you don’t pay much attention to personal grooming,” he laughed. “Do you like the beard? If not, I’ll shave it. I did have it trimmed.”

“I love it. Don’t shave it.”

“How was the wedding?”

“Lovely.”

“Are the newlyweds off on a honeymoon?”

“Only a short one. They left for Paris this morning. I’m dog sitting.”

“Ah.”

They chatted for a few minutes until the waiter came and took their drink order.

“I was wondering, you told me that you’ve been off the castration drug for several months,” she said. “Does that mean that everything works?”

“You’re certainly interested in this, aren’t you? Are you asking if I’m a fully functioning male?” he asked with a big grin.

She laughed and blushed, “Yes, I guess I am.”

“Yes, I am. After I stopped taking CPA, I got a series of testosterone shots to sort of jump start things and now my body produces its own testosterone as it did before.”

“So how do you know that, well, everything works?”

He laughed. “You’ll just have to take my word for it, but if you’re asking if I’ve been with a woman, I haven’t.”

She shook her head, “I still can’t get over your doing that.”

“Like I said, Jo, I felt that I had no choice, no other options. You know what the strangest thing was?”

“What?”

“I had to give up what most men consider their manhood in order to learn how to be a man. But it wasn’t only the drugs, I’ve had a lot of therapy – cognitive behavior therapy, one-on-one therapy, psychodynamic therapy, and group therapy, and I’ll continue to be in some kind of therapy for the rest of my life, I expect.”

She nodded.

He continued, “I’ve finally found peace, Jo. And for the first time in my life, I felt like I fit somewhere – with these men, with my brothers. All my life, I’ve never fitted anywhere – not at Oxford, not on the bench, not even in my own family, as it turned out. But at the abbey, I did. I didn’t feel alone anymore, because I was part of a community of people who accepted me just the way I was. I didn’t have to pretend I was someone else. Sounds strange, but it was good to be in the company of men, maybe because we were all in treatment together, but it made me reorganize the way I look at the world. Before, my whole life revolved around women, one way or another.”

“Do you think it’ll be difficult to fit in the outside world?”

“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? I’m a much different man and I understand myself a lot better than I did before, but we’ll just have to see. My life at the abbey was simple – prayer, work and therapy – very circumscribed. I actually thought about becoming a priest,” he smiled. “But I decided that I wanted to spend time with my family and I wanted to see if you and I could be together again. If you hadn’t shown up, my plan was to fly to Australia to see you.”

“What would you have done if you had arrived in Australia to find me happily married?”

“I did think about that. I would have had to have walked away. Your happiness is all that’s important to me.”

“The old John Deed would have never given up like that.”

“That guy didn’t know when to quit, did he?”

He looked into her eyes and his heart sank. She didn’t look away, but she had the look of someone who was about to deliver bad news.

“When I first came back, I wanted to run to you, even though I knew you weren’t good for me,” she said. “I can’t seem to get you out of my head. Then when you asked if we could get back together, words I’d longed to hear, as sure as I had been before I got here, when I thought about it, I wasn’t sure. I let all those old, bad feelings from the past overwhelm me. I know you’re a changed man, John, I can see it and I can feel it.”

_Here it comes_. He took a deep breath as if to brace himself for the inevitable bad news.

“It seems you’ve taken a leap of faith, John, and I think it’s time I stop hiding from my feelings and do the same thing.”

_Wait, was he hearing this right?_

“I love you John, I always have and I always will.”

“But?”

“No but, John. I want to be with you. I want us to try again. We’re both in much better places now. I know we can have a good life together.”

“Are you sure?”

She laughed, “Are you trying to talk me out of this?”

“No, no, not at all. I just want you to be sure because I, um, because of the problems I still have.”

“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. Whatever problems you have, we’ll face them together. I’m here for you. I don’t need you to be perfect, John, I just need you to be you.”

He smiled and reached across the table, took her hands and kissed them. He let out a huge sigh of relief. They sat in silence for a while, looking into each other’s eyes and smiling.

“What about work. Will you go back to the bench?” she asked, as if the elephant in the room had left and they could talk about mundane things.

“I don’t honestly know. I’ve thought about it a great deal, but I’m still not sure. I’ve been offered a job running the program that I was in, but it has some limitations. For now, I’m going to work with Catholic Charities at St. Margaret’s here in London.”

“Doing what?”

“A little bit of everything, I expect. Washing dishes, cooking, mopping floors, sorting donations. I will miss working outside, though. It was very hard work, but I enjoyed it.”

“That seems like a waste of a great intellect.”

“It’s just part of helping me ease my way back into the world. I’ve lived in a protective bubble and I’ll be up against stressors that I haven’t encountered for three years.”

“I understand that.”

They ordered lunch and took their time, since neither had any place to be.

“Tell me about your life in Australia,” he said.

“I liked it there, for the most part. I have a flat near the beach and the weather’s almost always nice. A bit too sunny for me, it’s an outdoor culture – you do everything outside.”

“What’s it like to practice law there?”

“About the same, except there’s a lot in statute. Actually, a bit easier.”

“And your personal life?”

“After I got settled, I thought about some of the things you said the last time I saw you. You did make some good points. I was determined to not make the same mistakes I made with you. I went to therapy, mostly to try to find out why I placed so little value on myself that I kept going back to a man who hurt me. I realized that I existed for only you – I was codependent.”

He looked away. He didn’t know what to say.

She continued, “You were right, I had no self-respect, no self-esteem. All I wanted was you and at any cost. In Australia, when I started dating, it was fun to be with someone who seemed, forgive me for saying this, normal.”

“It’s what you wanted with Marc, wasn’t it? I can’t blame you for wanting to be with someone who wasn’t like me.”

“Yes, although it turned out that Marc wasn’t normal either. That was another realization – that I’m attracted to men who are compulsive, another thing I wanted to change.”

“But you never found anyone you wanted to marry?”

“No. My relationships followed a pattern. I’d be very attracted to a man, we’d have fun, it would start to get serious and I would end it. I kept comparing them to you and they weren’t you.”

They sat in silence again. He looked at his hands and she looked out the window. “I don’t know what to say, Jo ...”

“Not your fault, John. That one’s on me. I have to own my part in all of this.” After a moment, she said, “Another thing I learned was that I told myself a story about you that wasn’t necessarily true.”

“What do you mean?”

“I always accused you of being unable to commit to me, but it was really me who couldn’t commit to you. You asked me to marry you repeatedly, but I was the one who said no, who couldn’t commit.”

“Even if you had said yes, nothing would have changed. I would have continued to do what I did because that’s who I was.”

“I never gave you a chance, though. I doubted your sincerity and that was wrong.”

“I can’t blame you for any of this, Jo.”

“And you were right, our relationship wasn’t sustainable. I couldn’t have lived that way forever.”

 

The waiter brought the check and he paid it. He looked into her eyes, grinned and said, “I have a room here.”


	24. Chapter 24

They went up to his room. They undressed each other hurriedly and lay down on the bed. They touched each other hesitantly at first and then tenderly, each caress part pleasure and part exploration, refamiliarizing themselves with each other’s bodies. Their bodies were the same and yet not the same. Her skin was darker from her time on the beach. He had always been in good shape, but the physical labor had made his body hard.

They kissed with growing hunger and he was relieved that he was responding to her. _Please don’t let me make a fool of myself_ , he thought, as he realized that he was trembling.

Sensing something, she said, “John is everything OK?”

“Yes, it’s just …”

“Just what?”

“Well, I’m a little nervous.”

“Really? It’s only me. If it’s not a good time, we don’t have to do this now.”

“No,” he said abruptly. “I mean, I want to make love to you now.”

“OK, but let’s slow down a little.”

She pulled him tightly to her and just held him. After a minute, he seemed to relax. She kissed his chest and his belly and then the insides of his thighs. He said, “No, Jo. I know you weren’t too keen on this. You don’t need to do something you don’t want to do to just to please me.”

“It’s not that I wasn’t keen on it,” she said with a smile. “It’s just that I didn’t know how to do it properly.”

He looked at her bemused, “Oh, and did you get some instruction from the men in Australia, then?”

She smiled, “I did get some practice in, but my instruction came mostly from Cosmopolitan magazine.”

He laughed, “Ah, a worthy authority. By all means, don’t let me stop you.”

He drew in his breath sharply as he watched her take him in her mouth. She was totally in charge and he was pleasantly surprised by both her enthusiasm and her ability. From deep inside him a groan escaped his lips and he pitched on the bed. In the midst of his pleasure, mesmerized by her, he suddenly realized that she had him perilously close to the edge. Gently, but firmly, he said, “Jo.” When she stopped and looked up at him, he pulled her to him and kissed her.

“Give me just a moment,” he said breathlessly.

When he regained his composure, he rolled her over on her back and began kissing her body. He reached down to caress her and then put his mouth on her. As his tongue and fingers became more insistent, she moaned and shuddered.

He moved up to lay beside her. She pulled him close and kissed him hard on the mouth. He looked into her eyes, touching the side of her face. For a few minutes, he just held her tightly against his body. She kissed his chest and stroked him. He rolled her over and drove himself inside her, pushing deeper and deeper, totally lost in her. After a while, he rolled her on her side and nestled her head against the inside of his arm, pulling her back toward his chest. As he moved with increasing speed, suddenly she arched her back and moaned loudly. When it was over, they lay facing each other, sweaty and sticky, heads together.

He buried his face in her hair. _This is where I belong._ _This is where I have always belonged._

She nuzzled his face with hers. Whispering, she said all of the things she had wanted to say to him for so long – how much she loved him, how good his body felt, how beautiful he was. She was finally able to give him what he had needed for so long. She kissed his face slowly and softly. She held him tightly. She didn’t think she could possibly love him any more than she did at this moment.

She had always enjoyed making love to him – he was a skilled and considerate lover – but this time was so much better. _What’s different?_ _Was it because we’ve been apart for so long?_ She realized that underneath all the passion and emotion, this time there was sweetness and tenderness. Absent was the disconnectedness she always felt in him, when, at the height of his pleasure, he seemed to go somewhere alone, away from her. Afterward, he had always wanted more than she could give him. But this time was different, because there was no withholding on her part; she had opened herself to him completely for the first time. There were no longer any boundaries between them.

“Well, Mrs. Mills you got some _very_ good instruction from that magazine.”

“Thank you, my Lord. I’m glad you were pleased.” They both laughed. “It seems that everything is in working order.”

He grinned, “Yes, it would seem so. I’m sorry about before, you know, about being nervous. Turns out it _is_ like riding a bicycle.”

“Yes, but a bit more fun.”

They fell asleep, he on his back and she on her right side, wedged between his left arm and his body with her head on his chest.

 

They slept for about an hour. He woke first, looked at her and thought, _Please God, let me wake up like this every day for the rest of my life._ He drifted back to sleep.

She woke a short time later face down in a blizzard of unruly white chest hair. She raised her head to look at his face – there were more lines in his forehead and around his eyes, but it was still the same beautiful face. He looked so peaceful. All the hard edges were gone from his face and something else was gone. _What was it? Sadness_? She put her ear to his chest and heard only his heartbeat. She no longer sensed the running motor that had always been inside him. At last, he was still. She noticed a small scar on his left eyelid – a remnant of where she struck him. With a twinge of regret, she put the thought aside.


	25. Chapter 25

He sat up resting his back against the headboard. She reclined between his legs with her back against his chest while he embraced her from behind.

After a while, she said, “John, I’m leaving for Australia next Saturday. I’d really like to get everything between us – recriminations, old hurts, resentments – worked out before I leave so that when I get back we can start fresh.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

They were both quiet for a while, neither wanting to go first. Finally, she said, “I need to ask you about George.”

“What about her?”

“I don’t think she’s going to give you up easily.”

He laughed, “Well, you’re probably right about that. She’s already left several messages on my phone. I guess Charlie told her I was back. Are you worried about her? Don’t be.”

“Are you still attracted to her? It seems like you two had something more than what you had with other women.”

He sighed. “What _is_ this thing you have about George? Jo, the only thing she and I ever had was a not very good marriage and, well, yes, a sexual, um, well I don’t know what you’d call it. It certainly wasn’t a relationship in the normal sense.”

She hesitated, “My therapist told me that I’m jealous of George because she had your baby and I didn’t.”

“Ah,” he said, remembering the baby that she terminated so long ago.

“Do you ever think about him?”

“Yes, I pray for him. I wonder how different our lives would have been if he had lived. At the time it seemed like there was no good choice. We wouldn’t have brought him into a very good life – his dad an addict. In retrospect, I’m amazed that I didn’t damage Charlie in some way. I did try to protect her from my addiction.”

“You raised a fine young woman.”

He smiled. “Thank you.”

“You know, you’ve used the word addiction more recently than you did the entire time we were in therapy.”

“Once I finally surrendered to my addiction, stopped trying to be in control, it was then that I was able to be in treatment. I had to call it by its name instead of calling it my problem or my condition. It’s a disease whose name is addiction. And as I began to honestly work at therapy and give a voice to all of that pain and shame that I’d kept down for so long, a remarkable thing happened – I began to feel better. It was truly transformative. I started to understand that talking about it _did_ actually help. From that point on, I began to work hard at expressing my feelings. Being in group therapy with other men who’d been through what I’d been through made me feel less alone, like I didn’t have to do it all by myself. They understood how I felt and somehow that made it OK to talk about it.”

She nodded and they were both quiet again. Then she said, “So, it was the sex that attracted you to George?”

“And we’re back to George. OK, I guess it was mostly the sex, but it was also the way she made me feel.”

“Tell me about that.”

“It doesn’t make any sense, but she made me feel more loved than any other woman ever has and, I don’t know, she ...,” he searched for words. “She made me feel like I wasn’t damaged, like I was more than enough for her. She knew what I did and she accepted me, she didn’t care.” He hesitated again. “Somewhere along the way, I got love and sex tangled up in my head and I think she was part of that. My feelings for her were always so confused. I’m sorry, Jo, this must be hard to hear.”

“It’s OK,” she said reassuringly and kissed the inside of his arm. “Haven’t I ever made you feel loved?”

He hugged her, “Of course you have, but you always seemed to push me away after we made love, as though you regretted it.”

She sighed, “I’m sorry for that, John, I was always so afraid of letting you get too close because I knew you’d hurt me again. I held back because of that. And it didn’t help that I sent you a lot of mixed signals over the years. I wanted you, but I was afraid.”

“I used to wonder sometimes why it was you couldn’t seem to love me.”

“You didn’t always make that easy.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said quietly with a rueful smile. “There were other times when I didn’t know how you could possibly love me.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t always know how much I Ioved you. I’m sorry I didn’t show it more.”

They lay quietly for a while, just holding each other, both almost unable to believe that this was happening.

“I’m curious, you had bite marks all over you when we were in Brighton. George bit you during sex? Did you like it?” she said.

“Uh, well, um, sometimes. George is very oral and she can be very aggressive in bed – we brought that out in each other. Sometimes she just nibbled on me, playfully, other times she bit me, usually when she wanted me to be rough with her.”

“Rough?”

“Not that rough. She wanted me to be aggressive, to push her around a little, hold her down on the bed. I never hurt her.”

“Do you want me to bite you?”

“No, no, I don’t,” he said with a chuckle.

 “It’s amazing how each of our problems played against the other’s, isn’t it?” she said.

“It is. You know that I’ll always have some kind of relationship with George because of Charlie and grandchildren?”

“Yes, I know that. She’s part of your family.” She hesitated, “While you were sleeping, I noticed the scar on your left eyelid.”

He squeezed her. “Jo, I forgave you for that a long time ago, now forgive yourself.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes again. Suddenly she felt him quake. She shifted around to partially face him. “John?”

He had turned his head to the side, his chin was trembling, and a tear ran down his face. He exhaled a wavering breath through his mouth. She put her hand on his cheek, turned his face towards her, kissed him and said, “John, it’s all right.”

Haltingly, he said in a whisper, “I’m sorry …” he paused. “For what I did to you. I’m so ashamed of the way I treated you.” He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “I never meant to hurt you.” Tears streamed down his face. “I’ll never forget that look of disappointment on your face every time I ….” He looked away again.

“John, it’s OK.”

“No, what I did was not OK. I have to be accountable for my actions.” Struggling to regain his composure, he sniffed and wiped his face.

“No, I didn’t mean that what you did was OK, I just meant that being emotional about it is OK.”

“So much for managing my emotions, huh?”

“I know you’re sorry, John,” she said soothingly. “I always did. It’s only recently that I came to appreciate how difficult your life was.”

 “It’s no excuse.”

She stroked his hair and kissed him. They both sat there for a moment as he composed himself. He took a deep breath.

“I hated the man I was – the man who didn’t care about anything except getting what he wanted. I finally realized that I needed to go to therapy for myself, not for anyone else or for any other reason than to get well.  I had to admit to myself that no matter how hard I fought it, I was powerless against my addiction. You try so hard to dull the pain and the shame that after a while, the only thing strong enough to get through the haze is the pain you're trying to anesthetize in the first place.”

“John, I always knew who you really were – a kind, compassionate man. It’s why your other behavior seemed so aberrant. I knew something was wrong and I wanted you to go fix it and then come back to me. I sat there in therapy with you and listened to the pain, the loneliness, and the shame pouring out of you and I didn’t do a thing to help. I mean, it was palpable – like it was sitting there in the room with us and all I wanted to do was run away from it. I saw how humiliated you were and how frustrated you were with yourself and I didn’t want anything to do with it. In the end I just couldn’t watch another man I loved struggling with a hopeless diagnosis. I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger and more supportive, but I was so overwhelmed by your symptoms and the things you did. I couldn’t cope with it. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“How could you have helped, Jo? You couldn’t fix my brain.”

“No, but I could have done something better than I did. I could have been kinder or more understanding, tried to make things easier for you. I should have been the one to comfort you, not George. And what kind of person says she loves someone and then does nothing to help?”

He wrapped her tightly in his arms. “I can’t imagine how much I hurt you. How betrayed you must have felt.”

After a while, she said, “I have to admit my complicity in this. I know I’ve hurt you, too.”

He sniffled, wiped his face with his hand and thought a minute. “Um, well, when you were going to marry Marc Thompson, that was a dark time for me. I went off the deep end for a while there, as you know,” he said, lost in thought. “I knew something was wrong, and it hurt because I knew there was something you weren’t telling me. Part of me figured I was getting what I deserved because of the way I’d treated you. Another part of me realized that another woman I loved was abandoning me.” He paused, “I wonder, if he hadn’t left you at the altar, would you be married to him now?”

“No, it wouldn’t have worked. When he called off the marriage, I was relieved. I didn’t tell you about Marc right away because I didn’t want to hurt you.” She paused, “And because I was a coward.” She ran her hand up and down his calf as if to reassure him. “I never really loved him, I just thought I did.”

He seemed to have recovered himself, but she felt that he was distant.

“John, don’t go away from me now.”

“Oh, sorry I didn’t mean to do that. The past sometimes still has a strong hold on me.”

“Are you still afraid that I’ll leave you? Because I will never do that.”

“No. That was the 10-year-old. He was the one who was so afraid of being left alone again. I will _never_ give you any reason to leave me.”

“John, I’ve forgiven you and I’m sure God has forgiven you. Don’t you think that at this point, you need to forgive yourself, the same way I do?”

“I wish I could.” He kissed her on the top of her head. “Sorry doesn’t seem like enough.”

“Well, you taught me to look at the evidence, so let’s look at it. We both said and did things, both intentionally and unintentionally, that hurt the other. We were both driven by things we didn’t fully understand. We have both taken responsibility for those things by talking about them and apologizing. We love each other. We’ve forgiven each other. So, can we agree that we’ve both done the best we can to make amends and can we let go of the past so that we can have a future together?”

“Very well argued, Mrs. Mills.”

“I had a very good teacher, my Lord.”


	26. Chapter 26

Off and on they talked for hours about hurtful things that happened in the past. He told her how angry he had been at his parents.

“It makes sense that you were angry at your mother, but your father, too?” she asked.

“He turned his back on Alice and me when we needed him the most. He withdrew from us emotionally and left us alone to deal with my mother’s death. He should have been teaching me how to be a man but he left me to figure it out on my own and we both know what a mess I made of that. I grew up without any coping skills. As an adult, when I’d get stressed or anxious or even just tired, I’d turn to sex or alcohol, mostly sex.” He sighed, “I did eventually forgive him. And he did teach me some valuable things – the good part of me came from him – but he wasn’t there when I needed him most.”

“I finally came to realize that it was the 10-year old who was still so angry. Eventually, I was able to look at my parents and see that they were two people who did the best they could. My mother was depressed and saw no hope and thought the best way out was to take her life. She wasn’t trying to leave me, she was trying to get away from herself. My dad was bereft without her and had two kids to raise on his own. It was quite a mess, but I’m so very grateful for my life.”

“How can you say that, John? Your life has been so difficult due to no fault of your own.”

“But I had a chance, Jo. My birth mother was likely a young girl who didn’t have the emotional or financial resources to take care of me. Or she could have been an addict. She gave me the best chance she could by giving me up. Then my parents adopted me and they gave me a chance. It’s true that things went terribly wrong, but I had a chance to go to Oxford and become a high court judge. For where I came from, that’s remarkable.”

“You worked very hard for those things.”

“Yes, I did but I had the opportunity to do that because my parents gave me a chance. That’s so much more than a lot of people get. I think about the people who’ve appeared before me in court, some of whom you defended, who never had a chance because of the circumstances they were born into. The people born to drug addicts, to people who neglected them or didn’t want them, to people who were simply not equipped to take care of them and I thank God every day for the chances I got. And then I got still another chance with the drug – that was nothing short of a miracle. And now I have another chance with you.”

“You’re a better person than I am, John. I don’t think I’d be able to be that grateful for a life like yours.”

“Don’t you see, Jo, even with all that’s happened to me, I am where I am right now through God’s grace. He made those chances possible.”

“I’m sorry, John, we’re going to have to agree to disagree. I don’t know why a loving God would have put you through what you’ve been through.”

“They say He works in mysterious ways.”

“Well, He’s always been a mystery to me.”

He shook his head and smiled at her. _This is no time for evangelism_ , he thought.

 

A strong spring rainstorm was suddenly beating against the windows. It was still a little early for dinner but they were hungry. Rather than get dressed, they opted for room service. They ordered a bottle of champagne and some snacks, which they ate in bed.

They continued to talk, but now more about the future.

“Where will you stay when the kids get back from their honeymoon?”

“I’ll need to find a place.”

“Why not move in with me? My flat’s been refurbished.”

“Hmm,” she said thoughtfully.

“C’mon, Jo. Haven’t we spent enough time apart?”

She smiled and then said, “Yes, yes we have.”

He kissed her. “What does the rest of your week look like?”

“I was going to house hunt, but that’s taken care of now, so I really have nothing going on. What about you?”

“I have to pick up my new car tomorrow …”

“What did you get? An Audi or a Porsche?”

“A Land Rover.”

“What? Not a sports car?”

“Those days are over. You forget, I’m about to be a grandfather. I need a car that has a backseat big enough for one of those baby seats.”

“I can’t picture you in a Land Rover,” she laughed.

“Neither can I,” he laughed. “On Wednesday, I have the hospital bit, with interviews and a complete physical, so that will take most of the day. The furniture’s being delivered to my flat on Thursday. On Sunday, I’m headed back to the abbey for Mass and Alice will join me, then I start my new job on Monday.”

“I can’t see you being happy mopping floors and sorting donations.”

“I feel like I can make a difference again. I used to feel that way about the law, but somewhere in all the politics, I lost that. Anyway, turns out, I excel at menial tasks,” he grinned. “It won’ be forever. I’d like to give back to the people who’ve done so much for me.”

 

Later, they decided to get dressed and go downstairs for dinner. They were both relaxed and they talked excitedly about their future. After dinner, he said, “Let’s have cognac and coffee upstairs.”

As they approached the room, she could see the room service tray outside the door. He unlocked the door and took the tray inside. He set out cups and a carafe of coffee. He went to the minibar and pulled out two small bottles of Remy Martin and got two cognac glasses off the tray. She sat down and he poured coffee and cognac for both of them. She’d kicked off her shoes and he massaged her feet.

“Jo, there’s one more thing I’d like to talk about before you go back to Australia.”

She felt very relaxed and said slowly with half closed eyes, “Really? What is it?”

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He opened it and turned it toward her. “Jo, will you marry me?”

She was so surprised that she put both of her feet back on the floor with a thud. The box contained a 2-carat square-cut diamond, surrounded by smaller diamonds in a platinum setting. It was exquisite, but not too fussy.

“Well?” he said expectantly. He took the ring out of the box and reached for her left hand. She extended it and he put the ring on her finger. “I know it seems sudden, but we’ve wasted so much time.”

She looked at the ring on her finger, smiled, looked into his eyes and said, “Yes, John, I will marry you.”


	27. Chapter 27

On Wednesday, John reported to the hospital for a battery of tests and interviews about his experience with the clinical trial. Between tests he went to the canteen where he ran into two of his brothers from the abbey, Jerome and Alan. They told him that the Church wanted to pilot a weekly men’s group, bringing together those who had been in the program with those who were just entering the program. They asked if he’d be interested in joining them. The men exchanged phone numbers and John told them that he’d get back to them. When the tests and interviews were over and he was officially released from the clinical trial, he went back to the hotel. Jo was having dinner with Michelle, and Charlie and Jonathon were prepping for a big trial so he was on his own for the evening. He ate in the hotel dining room alone.

 

He arrived at his flat at 9 a.m. the next morning to supervise the furniture delivery. A few hours later, when everything had been placed and unwrapped, he surveyed his new digs. The walls had been painted a medium gray with white trim. The flooring was black wide planks. In the kitchen, the same gray and black granite countertops remained, but the flooring had been replaced with 12 x 24” grey striated tiles. Those same tiles went in the bathroom, where the shower walls had been covered with aqua glass tiles.

The furniture in the small living room consisted of a couch covered in black and gray tweed along with two nail head-trimmed distressed black leather arm chairs. A coffee table of reclaimed wood with iron details sat in front of the couch and two bookcases of the same reclaimed wood sat on either side of the door to the hallway. A small rectangular dining table was placed against the window behind the couch and a large flat screen TV hung on the wall opposite the couch. New artwork was stacked in the corner.

In the bedroom, the bed had been replaced with a king size bed of light gray linen with nail head trim. There was a tall and short dresser. In the corner there was a leather club chair with a reading lamp and a small table. Two bedside tables of black wood completed the room.

He walked through the flat and was quite pleased with what Charlie had picked out for him. The flat had an elegant feel to it, but was still quite comfortable and inviting.

Jo arrived after work and walked through the flat with him. “It’s stunning,” she said.

“Too masculine?”

“Maybe a little, but I like it. Maybe a few pillows …”

He rolled his eyes. “Do you think you could be comfortable here?”

She put her arms around him, “I could be comfortable with you in a refrigerator carton under a bridge.”

They told each other about their day and she was intrigued with the idea of the men’s group.

“So, you’d be a mentor for the men coming into the program?”

“Yes. And it would give me an opportunity to spend some time with my brothers and talk about how we’re adjusting to civilian life.”

There was no food in the fridge, so they went out. He caught her several times admiring her ring and it made him smile.

She looked at him looking at her. “You going to be OK on your own while I’m gone?”

“Of course, I will. I’m not a 3-year old. I can be left home alone,” he snapped.

She was surprised by the sharpness in his tone. “I’m sorry, John, I never meant to imply that you couldn’t take care of yourself. It’s just that being alone used to be a problem for you and …”

“No, Jo, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be cross with you. It’s just that everyone from the outside tip toes around me as if I’m going to break at the slightest stress. I’m used to my brothers who treat me at face value.”

“They didn’t know you before,” she reminded him.

“Yes, yes, you’re right.”

She took a deep breath and smiled, “The new you is going to take some getting used to.”

 

On Friday, they went to the market to stock the flat, had lunch out and spent the rest of the day hanging artwork and dreading their upcoming one-week separation. Early Saturday morning, he took her to the airport. At the checkpoint, they held each other tightly, not wanting to let go.

“Don’t be angry with me,” she said. “I know you’ll be fine while I’m gone. I just hate to leave you now. It seems like such a turning point for you.”

He smiled, “I wish you didn’t have to go. But don’t worry, my support network is on high alert. I’ll be fine.”

“I know.”

He stayed until her plane was out of sight in the sky.

 

On Sunday he drove to Coventry to pick up his sister. She was glad to see him and on the drive to the abbey, he told her that he and Jo were engaged.

“John, I’m so happy for you and Jo,” said Alice.

“Thank you, it’s been a long time coming.”

“It certainly has.”

They attended Mass at the abbey and then drove back to Coventry to the cemetery where they placed flowers on their parents’ graves and then went back to Alice’s for lunch.

“Is it hard for you to visit their graves?” she asked as she set out lunch.

“No, I’ve forgiven them.”

“They loved you so much.”

He smiled, “I know. I’ve never thanked you for what you did for dad and me, Alice.”

“What did I do?”

“You were the glue that held us together, you made our household run and at great personal sacrifice, I suspect.”

“I loved taking care of you two.” She sighed, “I’ve forgiven them, too. They were just two people trying to do the best they could, weren’t they?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t have done more to help you, John. You were such a happy little boy until mum died and then you became so withdrawn. I just wish …”

“What happened to me wasn’t anyone’s fault, not mum’s nor dad’s, not mine, and least of all, yours. We all did the best we could under difficult circumstances.”

They had a pleasant lunch and he told her about his plans for the future. She was genuinely happy for him.

 

He reported to St. Margaret’s church on Monday morning to start his new job. He was given a tour of the facility where he would be working in the kitchen, helping prep food for the soup kitchen. After lunch, he helped clean up and prepped food for the next day’s lunch. Alan and Jerome were also there working and told him that the first men’s group meeting was on Tuesday at 7 p.m. in the basement of the church. He went up to the chapel to pray before going home for the day.


	28. Chapter 28

John arrived for the men’s group meeting to find Jerome and Alan and several other men waiting outside the meeting room in the basement of the church. The church hosted a wide variety of meetings, from Alcoholics Anonymous to social gatherings. The topics of the meetings weren’t posted, they were just listed as “Meeting” on the room list. As the door opened and people started filing out from the previous meeting, they all looked at one another as if to say, “What’s wrong with you?”

John sat down among Jerome, Alan and six other men. The chairs had been arranged in a small circle. After introductions, Alan explained how the group would work and what they hoped to accomplish. John looked at the six men, estimating they ranged in age from mid-30s to mid-50s. They all looked nervous and he noticed that they all had trouble sitting still. _Was I like that?_

All of the men were in the early stages of being treated with CPA, and hadn’t yet been to seminary. Alan asked them to share their stories. As they did, John thought back to those days of uncontrollable thoughts and wondered how he’d survived. Several of the men told of fathering children with women they didn’t remember or contracting sexually transmitted diseases. All of them expressed regret about what their addiction had done to their loved ones. They asked a lot of questions – when will the thoughts stop, what’s it like to not want sex, to not be a man?

John did his best to allay their fears. “I know it sounds strange, but when we were under the control of those thoughts, we weren’t really men. We didn’t care about anything but ourselves and we didn’t care what we did to our loved ones. There’s so much more to being a man than having sex, and once the drug kicks in, you won’t even think about it anymore. If you work the program, you’ll learn how to be sexual in a non-compulsive way and you’ll learn how to have healthy relationships.”

The men shook their heads in disbelief. Then they wanted to know what it was like to be a deacon, to spend all that time in prayer. Jerome said, “It’s really quite comforting – you come to realize that as you give your life to God, the rest of the world opens to you. You learn to find pleasure in small, simple things that you never had time to notice or think about before. You’ll be amazed at how much of life you’ve overlooked because you were so busy thinking about sex.”

The meeting adjourned and the six men left, leaving John, Jerome, and Alan behind. “So, how’s it going?” Alan asked John.

“Very well. The woman who unfortunately bore the brunt of my problems is back in my life and we’re going to be married.”

“Wow! She’s agreed to take you back?”

“Yes, somehow she managed to survive what I did to her. I’m grateful for her every day.”

“Lucky you,” said Jerome. “My wife divorced me while I was in the program. She found someone else. Someone with fewer problems than me, I suspect.”

“I’m sorry, Jerome,” said John.

“What’s it like to be with a woman and not be so …,” Alan searched for the word. “Desperate?”

“It’s hard to explain,” said John. “Jo and I have been in love for a long time but she was never part of my compulsion, so my relationship with her was different than it was with other women, but still there is something different now. Maybe it’s just more relaxed, not so, as you said, desperate. When we’re together, I’m completely with her, there’s no distance between us.”

Alan and Jerome nodded. Both men were anxious to get back to their lives – one was a banker, the other was a computer analyst. John was genuinely fond of both of them.

“Are you planning to return to the bench?” asked Jerome.

“I’m not sure right now. For the time being, I’ll work here and see how things go. I do miss working in the orchards and on the farm,” said John wistfully. “We were always so busy this time of year.”

The three of them chatted amiably for a while and then put the chairs away and Alan and Jerome headed home. John went upstairs to the sanctuary and lit candles for the new men. He sat in the semi dark of the church and prayed, thanking God for granting him the peace that he had sought for so long and for Jo’s return to him. He thought about what she’d said about needing to forgive himself. He knew that she and Bernard were right and he desperately wanted to let go of his shame. He had repeatedly asked God’s help with it, but God was silent. He took this to mean that he had to find the solution himself, he had to work harder. His therapist told him that he needed to stop judging himself so harshly and to learn to treat himself with compassion, but when he thought about his self-obsession and his disregard for Jo’s feelings, it made him sick.

 

He arrived home to find a message from Jo on his phone. He called her back. “I miss you so much,” he said.

“I miss you too. What have you been up to?”

“Work, mostly. We had the first men’s group meeting tonight.”

“How did it go?”

“Well, I think. It’s humbling to think that not so long ago, I was in the same place they are now. One thing I noticed, they seemed so jumpy – not able to sit still. Was I that way?”

“You never seemed to be fully at rest, even when you were sleeping, but I didn’t recognize what it was until Dr. Briones told me about the anxiety. I think that’s what that is.”

“Ah. It’s funny but I never noticed it in myself.”

“Don’t you notice how calm you are now?”

“Yes, I guess I do now. I wasn’t very self-aware in those days.”

“How about other things? How’s therapy going? What are you and Dr. Briones talking about?”

“Mostly about my transition from monastic to secular life – learning to live as a lay person again.”

“And how’s that going?”

“I guess I didn’t realize that monastic life would become so engrained in me.”

“Tell me about it.”

“The last three years of my life have been measured by the tolling of bells that told me exactly what I had to do and at what hour. It’s a little unsettling to not be on a set schedule, but Dr. Briones told me to expect this. I have to come up with my own schedule, one that fits into my new life, so I go to Mass before work and I find times to pray during the day. It’s getting better.”

“Like finding a new balance for yourself.”

“Yes, and just so you know, it’s nothing I’m struggling with. It’s important to me that you know that I’m coping with this. It’s just different, just something I need to adjust to.”

 “John, I have no worries about anything. I know you’ll find a way to handle all of the changes you’re facing and I’ll be there to help if you need me.”

“Um, Jo, there’s something I should tell you. I’m having lunch with George tomorrow to tell her about us.”

“Oh my, you’d better gird your loins for that,” she laughed.

“We’re having lunch in a public place, so that should help.”

“Don’t count on it,” she laughed.


	29. Chapter 29

They decided to meet at a restaurant near the Royal Courts of Justice so George wouldn’t have far to travel. She arrived first and was seated at a small table in an alcove by the window. He saw her immediately and made his way toward her. They kissed each other briefly.

“Darling, that beard makes you look so delicious,” she said, almost leering at him.

“Keeps me from having to shave every day and that makes me happy,” he said as they sat down.

“I wasn’t sure I’d hear from you. Charlie told me that you and Little Miss Oxfam are an item again.”

“That’s why I asked you to meet me George. Jo and I are getting married.”

“What? Really, darling, you must be joking.”

“No, I’m not.”

“When?”

“Not sure yet, but as soon as she gets back from Australia, we’re going to make plans.”

George was visibly unhappy about his news and ordered a very large, very dry martini. He ordered a glass of red wine.

“And what should I get you as a wedding gift?” She held one finger to her chin and looked up as if in thought. “Oh, I know, how about boxing headgear?”

“Not funny, George. That was a long time ago.”

 “I was hoping you called because you wanted to resume our relationship.”

“George, we didn’t have a relationship.”

“Well, yes, it was a relationship, a _sexual_ relationship.” She looked at him askance. “You can’t tell me that Little Miss White Bread is going to be able to keep you happy in bed.”

“George, I love her. Always have. You know that.”

“And what does that have to do with keeping you happy in bed?”

The waiter was hovering nearby, so they called him over to order just to get him to go away.

“Look George, you’re an incredibly sexy and desirable woman. Being with you was extraordinary, but I’m sorry I can’t do it anymore.”

George looked disappointed. “Well, I hope she appreciates your considerable skills in the bedroom.”

He laughed. “I’m sure she does.”

The waiter brought their lunch and as he walked away George quickly lifted her bare foot under the table and placed it in John’s crotch. Because the alcove was so small, he was unable to move his chair back to avoid her foot.

“George, please, stop it,” he said as quietly as he could. He took her foot in his hand and tried to put it down, but she locked her knee and the foot stayed where it was.

“You can’t tell me that you won’t miss the all good times we had under the covers.”

“George, they were wonderful. But the only woman I want to be with is Jo.”

She was moving her foot against his crotch. She looked at him dreamily, “There’s so much about you that I’ll miss – that mouth of yours, for one. It almost makes me blush to think what it can do to me. And the way you know exactly where to touch me and then there’s that lovely treasure trail …”

“That what?”

“That pretty line of hair that grows down your belly.”

“George, please stop this.”

“Is it turning you on?”

The waiter was nearby and could hardly conceal the smile on his face.

“No, it’s not,” he said, trying to keep his voice down. He grabbed her hands and held them in his while he looked into her eyes. “George, listen to me, you’re an amazing woman. You’re beautiful and smart, and loving.” She looked at him oddly. “Yes, George, loving. You always made me feel so loved and cared for, and I’ll always be grateful for that, but I’m not the same man I used to be.”

She looked into his eyes, scowled, and put her foot back on the floor. “I’ll say you’re not. Ever since you became a priest, you’re just no fun anymore.”

“Charlie told me that you were seeing someone. What is he? An MP?”

“Yes, and he’s very special and perfectly adequate in bed,” she said snippily. “It’s just that he’s not you.”

“Can’t we just be good friends? We’re about to become grandparents.”

“Oh God, don’t remind me. I mean, I’m happy for Charlie, but really, me a grandmother?”

He laughed. “George, you’ll be the sexiest grandmother ever.”

 

They ate and talked about a case she had. He paid the bill and as they approached the restaurant’s front door, she stopped and put her arms around him. “Last chance, darling. We could go to your flat for one last shag.”

He smiled and said, “George, you’re incorrigible!” In one quick move, she put her hand behind his neck, pulled his face towards hers and thrust her tongue into his mouth. He kissed her back momentarily and then pulled away from her.

“I’ll talk to you later, George.”

“Well, I guess that will have to do, at least for now,” she said as she walked away. She took a few more steps and then stopped and turned back to him, “John.”

He turned around to face her.

“You know, you really are very dear to me.” She stood looking at him with such tenderness and vulnerability that it touched him deeply. She turned around and headed toward the door. He stood there watching her go. _As you are to me, George._

 

Jo called from Australia. “How are things going down there?” he asked, glad to hear her voice.

“Good. I’ve divested myself of the few belongings that I’ve collected and I doubt that I’ll need all of these swimsuits in England,” she laughed. “What’s going on with you?”

“Not much. Just work and therapy.”

“How did your lunch with George go?”

He laughed. “Well, you were right, she did not let go easily. I suspect it’s easier to scrape barnacles off a ship.”

“Oh, do tell me about it.”

He regaled her with George’s antics at lunch. “She hopes you’re taking full advantage of, what did she call them? ‘My considerable skills in the bedroom.’”

“I do hope you put her mind at ease.”

“I did. And did you know that I have something called a treasure trail?”

“I’m afraid to ask what that is.”

“Apparently, it’s that line of hair that grows down my belly.”

She laughed. “Well, there is a treasure at the end of it.”

He chuckled, “Glad you think so.”

“Sounds like you came out of it pretty much unscathed.”

“At the last minute, she did manage to stick her tongue down my throat.”

“Oh, I do hope that wasn’t too upsetting for you,” she said mockingly.

“I felt like I’d been mauled by a she bear in heat.”

They chatted for a few more minutes and then hung up. The rest of the week dragged on interminably for both of them.


	30. Chapter 30

Being back in Australia was almost jarring to Jo – even though it was early fall there, it was still so sunny and warm. She was glad to see Linda, who had arranged a going away party at her house with some of Jo’s colleagues and friends. The breeze blew in from the ocean as it always did late in the afternoon and the smell of things cooking on the grill permeated the air. She sat in a chaise lounge with a drink, waiting for guests to arrive and thought to herself how amazing it was that things had worked out the way they had.

The party was fun and it was good to see her friends again. She would miss them. Everyone oohed and aahed over her ring and she had to admit that it made her feel special. She didn’t know what to tell them about John, so she just said that he was a former High Court judge who was trying to decide what to do with his life. She longed to be with him.

She had promised her therapist that when she was back in Australia, she would make a final appointment to say goodbye and to see if there was anything she needed help with. She drove to the small building on the outskirts of Melbourne for her appointment.

 “The last time I saw you, you had a lot of questions. Did you get some answers?” said her therapist.

“Yes, I did.” She told the therapist about John’s journey over the past three years and that they had reconciled and were going to be married.

The therapist shook her head. “What an extraordinary man to be able to face his demons like that. I hope you know how rare that is.”

“He’s always been extraordinary. There was just a lot of baggage that came with it.”

 “I’m happy for you. But you’re sure that the two of you talked everything out so there won’t be any leftover resentments or bad feelings?”

“I can’t think of anything that we haven’t talked about.” She hesitated, “I still feel badly about the beating I gave him, but he’s forgiven me for that. We both agreed that we need to forgive ourselves now.”

“That’s very good advice.” Jo talked at length about John’s anxiety and her therapist recommended two books which Jo read, making copious notes. This time she would help. He had said that he would be the man she needed and now she would be the woman he needed. They would face whatever issues he had together.

 

She was due to arrive that evening and he didn’t think he could wait much longer. He had planned for every eventuality – he had cooked in case she was hungry, he had put fresh sheets on the bed so that she could go directly to sleep if that’s what she wanted, and he had bought flowers and several bottles of wine. He was prepared.

When he picked her up at the airport, she was tired, but so happy to see him. Once they got out of the crowd deplaning, they kissed for a long time, not caring who was watching.

“God, I missed you. I don’t ever want to be away from you again,” she said.

“Let’s go home.”

On the way home, they filled each other in on what had happened during the week. When they arrived home, she didn’t know what she wanted first – food, bed, or him. She settled for a glass of wine and a soak in the tub. When she got out, he had laid out dinner for them in the bedroom. They ate in bed and talked for a while. They made love quickly and then fell asleep in each other’s arms.

 

She awoke the next morning to find him caressing her. “Can’t get enough of me, can you?” she giggled.

“No, I can’t,” he laughed.

They made love again, this time more slowly, savoring each other and when it was over, they lay on their sides facing each other. She looked at him quizzically.

“What?” he asked.

“What is your church going to think of you taking up with a heathen like me?”

He laughed, “Well, it’s not their business who I, as you put it, take up with, heathen or otherwise. Why do you ask?”

“I was wondering, wouldn’t you like to be married in your church?”

“I’d love that, but it’s so much trouble. I’m divorced and then you’d have to convert, and you’re a self-admitted heathen.”

“Yes, I am, but I’d convert if you wanted me to. You know, if you were still a priest, you could marry us.”

He looked at her oddly and laughed. “Jo, if I were still a priest, you couldn’t marry me, remember?”

“Oh, right.”

“I appreciate your offer to convert, but it’s supposed to be a sincere expression of faith, not something you’d be doing because of me. No, we’ll figure something else out, something simpler. Do you feel like doing anything today or are you too tired?” he asked.

“I’m tired, but as long as we’re not planning to run a marathon, I think I’ll be fine. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, there are some things we should talk about.”

She sat up. “You’re not having second thoughts?”

“No, no, nothing like that. I was thinking about this place. Do you really like it? Can you see us here for the long haul?”

She thought a minute, “It’s very nice, but it’s small and it has some bad experiences attached to it. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes, I was thinking the same thing,” He paused. “London is too noisy and crowded for me. I was thinking we should look for something else, somewhere else. We could use this place when we’re in town or I could sell it.”

 “OK, but where?”

“I don’t know if you remember, but I have a house in Sussex. I bought it years ago with the idea that I would renovate it and when I was sitting in Sussex, I could stay there instead of the at the digs.”

She laughed, “That would have saved everyone a great deal of trouble.”

“Yes, wouldn’t it have?”

“Where in Sussex is it?”

“It’s near Crawley, between London and Lewes.”

“Great location for work.”

“It’s been being renovated for several years. They’ve got maybe a month more of work left. Do you think it could work for us?”

“I’d like to see it first before I commit.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought. Let’s go down today and take a look at it.”

“Ok. You said we had some _things_ to talk about. What else?”

“I think we should start planning our wedding.”


	31. Chapter 31

On the drive down to Crawley, they talked mostly about the wedding. It would be a second marriage for both and neither wanted a big do. They wanted something small with family and close friends and then a small luncheon reception.

They stopped in Crawley for lunch and then drove a few more miles to the house. It was at the end of a wooded lane. The original part of the house dated from the 17th century and had been badly added on to over the centuries. John tried to maintain the integrity of the original house, but had it brought up to date and had had the additions rebuilt.

They walked into a spacious living room with high beamed ceilings, large windows, and a large fireplace. Despite its charm, it was a construction site, with building detritus everywhere. The foreman happened to be on site and told John that there were a couple of design elements that were proving to be challenging, so John left Jo to look around on her own.

She stood at the fireplace and looked to the expanse of windows and saw the perfect spot for a Christmas tree, in the corner in front of the windows. In the dining room, where wiring was hanging out of the ceiling, she saw a long harvest table filled with their children and their children’s children. In the kitchen, where plumbing was still being roughed in, she saw a large island where she would sit in the evening with a glass of wine and talk about her day while he made dinner. As she wandered around, she found the perfect room for an office for both of them. At the other end of the house was a huge master bedroom with an equally huge ensuite. The bedroom had a fireplace and a skylight, and she saw them lying in bed at night looking up at the stars.

He came up behind her. She turned to look at him, “Problems?”

“Nothing that can’t be taken care of. What do you think? Could we be happy here?”

She had tears in her eyes.

“What? No, don’t cry. We’ve had enough tears,” he said, wiping tears from her cheek.

“I feel like a complete fool. It’s so beautiful, so perfect.”

He took her in his arms and kissed her and said, “Good, I’m glad you like it. You can pick out all of the furnishings this time.”

“I don’t know how good I’d be at that,” she laughed.

“Charlie can help. I thought I’d let her pick out what she wants for the guest bedrooms since she and Jonathon and the kids will be back there. There’s room for your boys and their families, too.”

They drove back to London talking about the house and the wedding. Shortly after they arrived at home, Jonathon called to tell them that Charlie’s water had broken and that they were on their way to hospital.

 

Edward John Darrow was a baby in a hurry. By the time John and Jo got to hospital, he had been born. Charlie had hardly been in labor at all.

They were visiting with Charlie and Jonathon when the nurse brought the baby in and handed him to Charlie. A minute later, George and her father arrived. Charlie handed EJ, as he was to be called, to her dad and said, “Meet your namesake.”

John held the baby, smiled, and kissed him. “He’s beautiful, Chaz.” He walked EJ around the room so that everyone could see him. George came up beside him and put her arm around him to look at EJ. As she looked at the baby, her hand slipped, ever so stealthily, down John’s back to his bum.

“George!” said John quietly but firmly.

“Sorry, darling, old habit,” she said, quickly removing her hand.

“Dad,” said Charlie. “I know you’re not a deacon anymore, but could you say a blessing for the baby? I’d really like that.”

“Of course, but you know it won’t be legal,” he smiled.

“That’s ok, dad. It’ll just be nice coming from you.”

He thought for a moment, put his hand on EJ’s head, bowed his head and said,

“ _Heavenly Father, we thank you for this new life and humbly pray to be worthy of your gift. May your grace shine upon Edward John and may you grant him your wisdom and love in the days ahead. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen_.”

He made the sign of the cross on EJ’s forehead with his thumb and handed EJ back to Charlie.

Jo walked over to George while the others cooed at the baby.

In a quiet voice so that no one could hear, Jo said, “George, can you tell me something?”

“Yes, what is it?”

“Are you still in love with John?”

“What?”

“I saw you touch him.”

“Oh, um,” George sputtered. “Look, Jo, part of me will always love John because he’s my daughter’s father. And, well, another part of me will always love John because, well, he’s just so, um, well just look at him.” She looked nervously away and then looked back at Jo, realizing that she had for once let her guard down. She scowled and said, “You have nothing to worry about as long as you don’t hurt him in any way. If you hurt him, I will come after you.”

“Yes, you’ve made that clear.”

“I’ve never seen him so happy and that’s what I want for him. And for that matter, you seem quite happy too.”

“We’re very happy. I have no intention of ever hurting him again.”

They stood there looking at each other and George said, “Jo, be good to him.”

Jo smiled at her, nodded and said, “I will.”

“Truce?”

“Truce.”

George walked over to Charlie to take another look at the baby.

John walked over to Jo and said, “What was that all about?”

“Nothing, just girl talk.”

“Girl talk? The two of you?”

She smiled at him.

George looked at the baby and said, “I suppose he does look a little like you, John.”

“He looks more like you, Joe,” John said, turning to face Joe.

“All babies look alike to me,” said Joe.


	32. Chapter 32

A month after EJ was born, John and Jo were married by Monty Everard in his chambers. The wedding was attended by Jo’s two children, Tom with his wife, Lisa, and Mark and his girlfriend; Charlie, Johnathon and EJ; Alice; Rita Cooper and her husband, Derek; Joe Channing and George; Vera Everard; Michelle; Dr. Briones; several of John’s brothers from the abbey, including Bernard; and, of course, Mimi.

They had written their own brief vows. They promised to cherish each other, to live in truth, to communicate fully and fearlessly, to take care of each other and, upon John’s insistence, to be faithful to one another. Bernard read from Corinthians:

“ _Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud._ _It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres_.”

When Monty pronounced them husband and wife, a cheer and a bark went up from those assembled. The reception was a luncheon in a private room in a nearby hotel. The mood was jubilant and there were many toasts proclaiming the power of the couple’s love to overcome adversity and persevere through difficult times, including a surprising toast from George who wholeheartedly congratulated the couple and wished them the best.

After lunch, John and Jo went back to their flat, changed into more comfortable clothes, and caught a taxi to the airport. They flew to the Costa del Sol in Spain, where they stayed for a week before departing for Mallorca. There, they settled into a secluded villa with a private beach.

They spent their days on the pool deck, at the beach or in the spacious, airy villa. At night, they ate at small, local restaurants or they grilled on the pool deck. They made love as often as they could and wherever they wanted to.

 

Two weeks later, they reluctantly headed back to London. Their new house was ready and Charlie had done her usual spectacular decorating job, making the house both beautiful and comfortable.

John hauled their luggage into the front hall and they both collapsed on the couch and looked around.

“Does it meet with your approval?” he asked.

“Oh yes, Charlie did a wonderful job. Tailored, but welcoming, not too masculine.”

“Yes, and not too girly, either. Are you hungry?”

“Ravenous.”

“Charlie texted me that she’s put our favorite Indian food in the fridge. I’ll get a bottle of wine.”

They ate at the island counter in the kitchen. After dinner she said, “You know what I’d like?”

“Me?”

“Well, of course, but later. Right now, I want a nice warm bath. Will you join me?”

“I’d be delighted.”

She went back to the ensuite to run water in the tub while he wrestled their luggage to the bedroom. The ensuite was built in American style – enormous by British standards – with a free-standing, oversized bathtub. She was standing next to the tub, watching it fill up when he came in and looked in the tub.

“Ooh, bubbles!” he said.

“Have you ever had a bubble bath?”

“I have not.”

“Well, you’re in for a treat,” she said getting in to the tub. He followed her in.

They spent the better part of an hour in the tub, just relaxing. When it was time to get out, he said, “I need to do something in the bedroom, so get dried off, but don’t come in until I tell you.”

“John, what are you up to?”

“You’ll see.”

He walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. A few minutes later, he called, “You can come in now.”

She opened the door to the bedroom to find the room aglow with candlelight. He was stretched out on the bed.

“This is so beautiful, oh and so are you,” she said moving toward him on the bed.

“We need to properly christen our new bed, so I thought this might put you in the mood.”

“I’m always in the mood for you,” she said lying down beside him and kissing him.

They made love slowly like two people who had all the time in the world. Afterwards, he pulled her on top of him. She rested her chin on top of her hands on his chest and looked at him.

“You feel good on me,” he said groggily. They were both sleepy.

“Mm, I like to be on top,” she laughed.

Suddenly, he perked up. “I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“What?”

“What will you call yourself? Mills or hyphenate or take my name? If you hyphenate, when you become a judge, you’ll be Mrs. Justice Mills-Deed. Rather a mouthful.”

“I don’t much like that. What do you think?”

“I think you should do what you want to do. But you do have quite a track record as Mrs. Mills.”

“True, but you know what? I want your name. I think I’ve earned it after all these years.”

He laughed, “So, you’ll be Mrs. Justice Deed.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Finally, life was good. Jo and John had made it through the fire to the other side and, in the process, had left their mutual misery in the past. They never spoke about it again. They had forgiven each other and, in time, they both learned to forgive themselves. They moved through their days with love and ease, surrounded by family and meaningful work. And, yes, they lived happily ever after.

 

**Epilogue**

Jo became a High Court judge and tried to dispense justice with the same compassion that John had, only without all of the interruptions.

John was named Executive Director of Catholic Charities Legal Services and occasionally appeared in court as a barrister where he found out how annoying it was to be interrupted by the judge.

Charlie and Jonathon had two more children – twins. There was no history of twins in either family, so they surmised that it came from John’s birth family.

George married a member of Parliament, but tried to seduce John every chance she got, to no avail.

Rita Cooper retired.

Joe Channing and Monty Everard died. John read the eulogy at both funerals.

Mimi died at the age of 17 surrounded by those who loved her.


End file.
